


History is Made at Night

by batmanbane



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-01 05:06:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 74,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batmanbane/pseuds/batmanbane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bane forces the editor of a local fashion magazine to publish a project of hope for the citizens of Gotham. But she has more ambitious ideas, and moonlights with a project of her own...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

  
_"And, I pray thee now, tell me for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?"_   
_― William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing_

  
**Chapter 1**

  
She was a 27-year old journalist travelling with international relief agencies in the third world. Her beat covered the starving and oppressed, and the humanitarian organizations attempting to make a difference in the lands where soldiers ruled: Darfur, Somalia, Uganda… But there were only so many hopeful stories she could write on the subjects of clean water supply, available medical care and education for girls. The actions of bad men were never-ending, and her increasing cynicism convinced her that relief work was just a band-aid on a gaping wound. Wouldn't it be better if these countries just imploded, and started all over again?

  
In short, she was burned out. She returned home to Gotham City, and accepted a job at a fashion magazine. As associate editor, she was low man on the totem pole, overseeing the "new products" section of the magazine. But the lure of a regular paycheck with benefits could not be denied, and truth be told, she loved her new job and its perks. Was it wrong for her to own two Chanel suits, after giving so much of herself in Africa? She wondered what her colleagues at the Red Cross would say if they knew she now spent her days evaluating the latest lipstick colors.

  
But her life was about to change even more. Times were tough in the world of newsstand magazines, and when most of the high priced editorial team was abruptly fired, she was promoted to managing editor. In a press release announcing her appointment, the publisher wrote, "Her background in humanitarian and justice issues brings a bold new dynamic to Gotham Woman".

  
She shook her head and laughed as she read the release. Newsstand magazines were headed for extinction, but she wanted to take a crack at one anyway, at least until it was her turn to be fired.

  
Gotham Woman was housed on the third floor of the former Public School Number 4, where there was plenty of space, natural light and a large flat screen television where the staff could monitor the latest runway shows. The washroom doors displayed their public school origin, with the "Boys" and "Girls" lettering still visible on the doors. Upstairs there was a kitchen, and a former nurse's office containing a desk, bed, and washroom.

  
It was Saturday, and she was alone in the office, standing on a stool in the storage closet. She was looking for a suitable china teapot for a photo shoot, when suddenly there was a thunderous rumble beneath her. She felt the stool slip away from her feet, and then she fell to darkness.  
She awoke to the sound of voices, foreign voices, and as she cracked her eyes open, she began to detect the figures of soldiers moving around the room. Panic spread throughout her body as she struggled to recall the present.

  
Did she dream Gotham? What the hell was she doing back in Africa, where she didn't want to be?

  
"Stay down, you need medical attention." A quiet voice advised her. "You're lucky you weren't cut, because you were laying on pieces of a broken tea pot."

  
"What? What's going on here?" she mumbled irritably. "I have a deadline and I have to get back to work…"

  
"Calm yourself, Miss." The quiet voice reminded her.

  
She frowned and tried to assess her situation. But she couldn't stop the belly laugh that suddenly tore from her core. "The tea pot broke? But I need that tea pot!" Her laughter echoed around the room.

  
She turned her head to discover that the voice belonged to a young soldier sporting dark hair and a beard. He wore a khaki jacket, camouflage pants and a red scarf around his neck.

  
"Hello." she whispered. "I'm Stella. Stella Browning."

  
Stella was almost certain the soldier blushed.

  
"Barsad." He nodded shyly as he knelt down next to her.

  
"Can you tell me what happened, and why you people are here?" Stella asked as she raised herself onto her elbows. Despite her disorientation, her reporter's instinct had kicked in.

  
"Our men had planned to set up operations here." Barsad explained. "But apparently the plans have changed and we are to go elsewhere now."

"What operations?" Stella demanded mildly. "I need to speak to your commanding officer."

 

"Shhhhh…" Barsad hushed her. "You need to be quiet".

"I need to get up". She countered. "I've got a deadline Monday and proofs due at the printer on Friday."

  
Barsad frowned and shook his head. "No, Miss… I'm afraid that's all over for you now." He cautioned.

  
"What?" Stella put a hand to her confused forehead and tried to control her panic. "Will you please just tell me what happened? Was it an earthquake?"

  
"You might say that." Barsad replied. "Just watch. Shrugging with disinterest, he gestured toward the flat screen television.

  
For the next several minutes Stella forgot her distress as she watched the tv in morbid fascination. GCN was broadcasting what looked to be a terrorist attack. The news crawl at the bottom of the screen repeated the same headlines. Suspected Terrorist Attack in Gotham City. Multiple Explosions. Mayor Feared Dead. The man behind the attack was Bane, the same masked man who had hit the Stock Exchange, and now he had just blown up the football field, the city's infrastructure, and all available exit points.

  
Stella should have been horrified; instead she was mesmerized.

  
Bane waltzed into the stadium as if he were born to it, savoring his moment in the sun on the Jumbotron. Part master of ceremonies, part talk show host, part remorseless killer, he introduced the crowd to a bomb meant to destroy Gotham, then murdered the only man who could disarm it, all on live television.

  
Clearly the gravity of what the terrorists had accomplished was lost on Barsad. He wasn't impressed, and didn't crowd around the tv to watch the replay of his work, as some of the other men did. He quickly rose to his feet as a figure approached. A dark shadow crossed Stella's face, blocking the afternoon sun.

  
Bane stood directly above her, holding her passport in his left hand. He had overheard Stella's laughter and now observed her from a relaxed stance, arms hanging loosely at his sides as his fingers twitched. Her eye travelled upwards from his boots, along the kneepads of his cargo pants and belt, to the tight-fitting, black shirt he wore over his heavily muscled frame. By the time she reached his neck, she realized her heart was pounding and she was holding her breath.

  
She swallowed nervously, anticipating the worst.

  
"Up, up." the masked man ordered Barsad, rotating his index finger in impatient circles. "Get her up." His mechanically enhanced voice lacked the joy and enthusiasm it contained in the footage at the football field. In fact, he sounded downright irritable, exhausted, and in pain.

  
Her heart leaped into her throat. Stella had just seen what he was capable of in a good mood, recalling the merry expression in his eyes as he entered the football stadium and proceeded to break the neck of his hostage. Now, it was Stella's turn to be interrogated… and his good humor had obviously expired.  
"She needs a doctor, brother." Barsad said as he helped Stella to her feet. "I suspect concussion."

  
Bane shot Barsad a dangerous look. "She needs no doctor… the woman has merely fainted." He commented dryly.

  
Despite her disorientation, Stella couldn't help but feel offended by Bane's words. Humiliated by a dismissal she regarded as sexist, she somehow managed to capture the terrorist's disinterested stare. "I - I didn't faint." she insisted, "As scary as your mask is, I'm used to working around your type in the third world. I didn't faint. I was knocked on the head."

  
And just like that the dynamic between them changed. Her comments had earned his attention and now his gaze seized her dark brown eyes with a ferocity she found intoxicating. "Fetch a doctor from Gotham General." He ordered a nearby man. "Inform him that he works for me now, and bring me the woman's bag."

  
Bane then returned his attention to Stella. "I will search you." He stated matter-of-factly, continuing to hold her eyes hostage as his strong, large hands rounded her curves in search of a weapon he knew he wouldn't find.

  
"Oh!" Stella shouted, shocked by the intimacy of his touch. A furious blush spread across her pale skin, and something akin to electricity surged through every nerve ending, as if she had overdosed on vitamin B.

  
"Miss Browning is a journalist who has recently returned from Africa." Bane observed quietly, turning his attention to Barsad. "She has exposed herself to great danger in the name of justice." He paused, fingers twitching as his mechanical mask wheezed.

  
As Stella pondered the possible reasons for wearing a mask that resembled a cross between the jaws of an insect and car parts, Bane began to recite a list of her journalistic career highlights to his second-in-command.

 

Did he have a breathing problem? If so, he looked incredibly fit for having such an affliction. He was huge, solid, and had biceps a girl could get lost in. And between the stare and the swagger, he had likely lured countless women to his bed. To Stella's mind, he was… gorgeous. Could the covered portion of his face be any less so?

 

Breaking into her reverie, Bane spoke again, his mask producing an echo of deep and ragged astonishment. "And your… husband allows this?" he boomed in disbelief.

  
This wasn't the first time Stella had been interrogated by soldiers, and she quickly recognized that Bane was baiting her. He'd obviously found the wedding band in her purse.

  
"I'm taking a break from justice for now." she explained evasively.

  
"Because your… husband objects?"

  
The gold flecks in his hazel orbs smoldered dangerously, and his overall expression turned to one of triumphant glee. The cat was about to swallow the canary, and Stella decided that however the outcome, it was best to be truthful.

  
"I think you already know there's no husband." She answered, once again annoyed by his sexism. I wore the ring in Africa because sometimes it prevented unwanted advances from men like you."

  
Stella immediately cringed at her own words. How could she have said something so stupid? It had to be the knock on the head talking…

  
It seemed a lifetime before Bane reacted, and she swallowed hard as traces of fear began to crawl along her spine.

  
"Really?" he drawled cheerfully. "Men like me? Did you hear that, Barsad?"

  
Well, now he was making fun of her, and Stella's resolve was weakening minute by minute. She felt like a pawn in a game that Bane and Barsad had played many times before. She held her breath once again as Bane turned his attention to her hair.

  
"You are naturally fair, and therefore a distraction for my men. I should kill you." He croaked intimately as the mouthpiece of his mask touched the tip of her nose. When his probing fingers found the chignon at the back of her head, Stella felt something pull, and Bane revealed the bobby pin he had removed from her hair. "I am sorry, Miss Browning, but these are weapons." He hissed in a dangerously low metallic voice. "I cannot allow you to have them." And one by one, he removed all the bobby pins, as sections of Stella's fine, wavy hair fell to her shoulders.

  
"I have a solution, brother." Barsad called from the storage closet. "Dark chestnut brown." he added, emerging with a box of L'Oreal Preference #36.

  
"I wouldn't think that's necessary!" Bane said lazily as he swatted the box out of Barsad's hands. "Supply her with your kit, and make sure she wears the red scarf." He had once again broken his stare with Stella to address Barsad. "She is under your protection now, brother. If our men fail to understand this, they will answer to me." Returning his gaze to Stella, he now looked at her as if he was expecting her to thank him for the protection. But Stella had no intentions of thanking him because as far as she was concerned, he was putting her in danger.

  
"You will live and work here. I have a job for you to do, Miss Browning." He rasped. "Barsad and Abraham will see that you have what you need and that you are well fed. There are quarters upstairs for sleeping, as you already know. I warn you that all exits are blocked – within this building and within this city. Do not try to escape me."

  
Bane brought the back of his hand down and brushed it gently against her cheek before lightly cupping her jaw in his hand. His glittering hazel eyes were lit with intentions that made Stella uneasy.

  
"I hope you will be well tomorrow, Miss Browning." He said, not unkindly. "There is something I wish for you to see. Barsad will collect you in the morning, and then I will meet with you here afterwards. In the meantime, I hope the doctor brings good news…"

  
Stunned by the masked man's chauvinistic methods, Stella hugged her body and shivered involuntarily. Bane had made her feel like a picked-over tomato at the fruit market. And yet, her body belied her resentment, having hummed and throbbed uncontrollably in response to his touch.

  
"God damn you…" she muttered furiously as she watched him depart through a hallway and down the stairs. She reached for the elastic band around her wrist and yanked the hair he had loosened into a ponytail.

  
"Don't you touch me…."


	2. Chapter 2

" _Deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance."_

― _Oscar Wilde_

**Chapter 2**

 

"You're very lucky, considering your fall to the floor. I don't see any evidence of concussion, although you do have a few bumps and bruises on your body."

 

Dr. Natasha Van Dyne, an emergency ward physician from Gotham General Hospital had just completed a brief examination of Stella. "You're not experiencing confusion and you don't have a headache. There _is_ a bruise on the left side of your face, but there are no bumps or bruises on your head and no evidence of bleeding. I can monitor you for the next few days, but I think maybe you just fainted." The doctor suggested delicately.

 

Stella was humiliated, especially since she had made noise about having a concussion in the presence of Bane. "It wouldn't be the first time I fainted." She admitted apologetically. "I have a fear of the dark, and when the lights went out, I guess my lights went out as well. I'm very sorry they kidnapped you just for me, Dr. Van Dyne."

 

"My name is Natasha, and there's no need to be sorry, Stella… because I volunteered to come here." the petite brown-haired doctor confessed. "Although I don't agree with Bane's methods, I believe his ideology is… worth investigating.

 

Stella questioned the wisdom of an intelligent doctor throwing in with a bunch of mercenaries, but stayed silent on the subject. "Well, you should take care." She cautioned. "Watch yourself around him, because he touched me while he was interrogating me."

 

Natasha shrugged, unconcerned by Stella's warning. "My life has been… drifting lately. So I'm looking at this experience as an adventure and a challenge, and I'm really curious about whatever it is Bane wants us to see tomorrow."

 

As Natasha gathered together her medical bag, one of Bane's men burst into the room, pointing at the doctor "Come with me!" He ordered roughly.

 

Stella gave Natasha an encouraging nod, ignoring the menacing thug. "Maybe we'll see each other tomorrow!" She called as Natasha was pulled out of the room by the rifle-toting mercenary.

 

"Tomorrow!" the doctor responded with a confident shout.

 

Returning to the main office area, Stella wished she shared Natasha Van Dyne's optimism. On the office worktable she found two sets of Khaki clothing, including red scarves. The Chanel suit she had dressed in that morning was torn in places where it couldn't be repaired. And she had put on a pair of running shoes when she couldn't find her left high heel after waking up on the office floor. So much for high fashion, she thought cynically.

 

The heavily armed Barsad hovered discreetly until Abraham arrived with Stella's dinner in take-out containers. Abraham was bald, brown-skinned, and wore a permanently confused expression that belied his excellent military instincts. Stella recognized him from the football stadium footage, where he had backed up Bane.

 

"B-Bane's orders. Y-you eat dinner at s-seven-o'clock each n- night." Abraham had a pronounced stutter, and she briefly wondered if fear of Bane encouraged it.

 

"You will eat well, Miss Stella." Barsad assured her. "We took over Daggett's kitchens, and because Bane's chefs are international you will have a lot of choice."

 

Although Barsad's comments were reassuring, Stella struggled with her dinner of vegetarian cabbage rolls nonetheless. She managed only three bites before her stomach began to lurch alarmingly. The cabbage rolls were tasty, but her nerves had far overwritten her ability to eat any food. It had been a long, stressful day, and she wanted only to sleep and awaken from her nightmare.

 

In the storage closet, she found samples of designer gym wear that she could sleep in. Only too aware of the male mercenary presence in the office, she managed a very brief shower in the bathroom. Before turning in, Stella peered out the windows in search of a potential escape route. But Bane's men were everywhere – on the fire escape, and on the roofs of neighboring buildings and in the stairwells.

 

She left a small desk lamp switched on to keep her company, but the events of the day crashed down on her as she tried to fall asleep on the hard bed in the nurse's office. She was especially struck by the irony of having avoided similar trouble in Africa, only to be taken by a terrorist in supposedly civilized Gotham.

 

Yesterday, she was a magazine editor. Today, she was the prisoner of a violent mercenary, held in her own office for as yet unknown reasons. The city itself was a disaster area, and Stella wondered if her apartment building had survived the explosions. A bomb was going explode in five months… And… how long before _he_ raped her?

 

She tossed on the inadequate bed until she could no longer bear her thoughts, and rose to view the Gotham news coverage on the flat-screen television, watching the same reports repeatedly. Stella eventually fell into a deep sleep in her desk chair, where Barsad found her the next morning.

 

A few hours later, Stella and Natasha sat together in the open window of a warehouse situated directly across from Blackgate Prison. While they waited, they discovered they were the same age and shared similar traits. They were single women who were happy to remain so, and both put their careers first. They were determined to stay connected with one another throughout their personal ordeals with Bane.

 

Eventually, one of Wayne Enterprises' tumblers rolled up to the prison, and Bane emerged to deliver a rousing speech, spelling out the terms of Gotham's occupation.

 

 

The two women sat in stunned silence during the speech. Stella observed that Bane was brilliant, an incredibly gifted politician, military commander and Renaissance man. He could have been a force for good - a teacher and a visionary if he hadn't chosen the life of a mercenary.

 

Stella shifted uncomfortably in her seat as a rash of goose bumps travelled along her skin. "Oh, God…" she shivered helplessly, and then she frowned, disappointed by the waste of a potentially good man.

 

"What an actor." Natasha groaned, smirking sideways at Stella.

 

"What an ego." Stella murmured, unable to take her eyes off Bane.

 

Despite her horror at the conclusion of Bane's speech, when the inmates of Blackgate were armed and released into downtown Gotham, Stella found that her entire body was vibrating with excitement.

 

By the time Abraham returned Stella to her office, Bane was already waiting for her. He had removed the heavy, high collared coat he had worn that morning and was wearing a bullet-proof vest over a thick black sweater. And he was speaking very heatedly to Barsad.

 

"I asked Abraham to bring a doctor." Stella overheard him say with menacing calm. "I did not _expect_ he would bring a woman doctor."

 

Barsad swallowed nervously. "She volunteered her services, and is sympathetic to our mission here, Bane. Her hospital record indicates she is highly accomplished, but we can terminate her if you wish." He shrugged.

 

Bane frowned and considered his options. He was always in need of a good doctor, but an attractive female doctor might prove to be a distraction for his men. Conversely, having a volunteer professional was an advantage he could not overlook, and so he decided to make an exception.

 

"You will warn Abraham, because I am likely to kill him if _I_ do so, and I cannot afford to lose another good man." Bane wheezed. "Retain the woman doctor, but there are to be no more females recruited into this army. The one woman we serve is trouble enough."

 

Having dismissed Barsad, Bane directed his attention to Stella, who was awaiting him at her desk. Her leg bounced anxiously in anticipation of their meeting, and she leapt to her feet awkwardly to hide her nerves.

 

She _had_ planned to speak first, to demand why he had released armed murderers and rapists into the population, but when she looked into his eyes her mind became blank, and the words didn't come.

 

She was wary of the angry mood he had just shown Barsad, but she had not been able to shake the sense of exhilaration she felt since witnessing his speech, and she had almost forgotten her resentment of his sexist behaviour from the previous day.

 

There was no question about it – Bane was dangerously charismatic. He had seduced the crowds at Blackgate, and if Stella weren't careful, he would seduce her as well.

 

He delivered a sharp nod in her direction as he approached, and Stella noticed he was holding a copy of _Gotham Woman_.

 

"Good… morning." She stammered, finally locating her voice.

 

"Good _afternoon_." he corrected her softly, raising fresh goose bumps along her skin. "You are looking lovely in our uniform today, Miss Browning. You are well?"

 

"A…apparently. Thank you for sending a doctor, Mr. Bane. As it turns out, I… I merely fainted." She said, carefully using the same dismissive phrase _he_ had used the previous day. Stella was genuinely surprised when she saw his glittering eyes crinkle in amused response.

 

"Bane." He replied pleasantly. He was cordial and business-like, and there was no sign of the chauvinistic brute she had encountered on the previous day.

 

"That was quite a speech this morning." Stella said, jump-starting the conversation in an effort to battle her shyness.

 

Bane's fingers twitched as he suppressed a powerful desire to touch her body in the same way he had done while searching her the previous day. But that behavior would not do today, not when he wanted something more from her than just her body…

 

"I hoped you would think so, Miss Browning." He answered respectfully. "And now that you have a better idea of our role here in Gotham, I believe you can help me."

 

Stella's abdomen fluttered.

 

"With what?"

 

"I have noticed there is a great deal of negativity coming from the worldwide media, which I believe may hinder the potential for hope in this city during our…supervision here." Bane said, as he began to pace before Stella.

 

"Well, why don't you just block the broadcasts then?" Stella asked, not sure she understood.

 

"That is an excellent idea, but we have already assured the people that we will not interfere." He explained. "We cannot go back on our word now. And truthfully, Miss Browning, I enjoy the news reports, hearing and reading what they say about me." Bane admitted, and Stella could see that his eyes were smiling again.

 

He radiated an astonishing level of body heat, which slowly worked its way around Stella's form with a warm embrace that made her feel safe. He was still very flushed from delivering his Blackgate speech, and Stella imagined herself reaching up to lay her hand against the soft warm skin above his mask…

 

"Have I your complete attention, my dear?" Bane asked as he watched her eyes dart up and down the length of his frame.

 

"Yes, of course." Stella blinked.

 

"Very well, then." He answered, pausing for a moment.

 

"I have come to you because I require your journalistic expertise to produce a publication that will encourage a positive view of what has happened in the city. I am not an unreasonable man," he continued amiably, "and I want to set the peoples' minds at ease, give them hope – that is, until the end comes."

 

Bane had expected Stella to interrupt by now, but when she didn't, he completed his pitch.

 

"I am thinking along the lines of radical underground press." He explained. "It should not be a sophisticated publication by any means, but with the articles you write for it, you will in essence be entrusted with the cultivation of hope in Gotham's citizens."

 

As Bane eagerly searched her dark brown eyes for a reaction, Stella's mouth dropped open, and she finally found the words.

 

"Have you lost your mind?" she exclaimed before she could stop herself. "You've turned the city into a junkyard, blocked the exits and filled the streets with criminals. Everyone is going to die in a bomb blast, and now you want to give people hope. That just sounds like torture to me."

 

"Yes. It _is_ torture." Bane agreed, nodding approvingly at Stella's assessment. "But as the end nears, hope will make the peoples' despair so much sweeter." He added in a coldly matter-of-fact tone as his challenging eyes bore through hers.

 

Stella hadn't even begun to process her own imminent demise, let alone consider writing "hopeful" editorial for the citizens of Gotham. How was she supposed do a job where she was expected to lie to readers? Her emotions threatened to overwhelm, but she refused to show Bane any vulnerability. She returned to her seat, put her elbows on the desk and rested her head between her hands.

 

"I left Africa to get away from people like you, and from politics like yours. And my "journalistic expertise", as you call it, can't lower itself to what you're asking." She responded with quiet anger.

 

Bane narrowed his bullet-eyed stare. "Yet you willingly lowered yourself to pander to Gotham's shallow feminine elite." He rasped judgmentally as he tossed his copy of _Gotham Woman_ on to the desk before her.

 

Stella looked up from the magazine, which was open to the masthead page featuring her editor's column and photo. She returned his angry stare for a long moment.

 

"Don't pretend to know everything about me. You don't." She stated bluntly. " _Gotham Woman_ was my ticket to New York, and _Harper's Bazaar_ and _Marie Claire_. Thank you for taking that away from me." She finished sarcastically.

 

Bane crossed his arms and cocked his head. Ordinarily, he would have crushed the windpipe of someone foolish enough to speak to him that way, but he was fascinated by her ambition, and he needed it. Talia had always been very ambitious, but she did not live in the real world. Stella Browning did.

 

"I am listening." He said, smiling behind the mask. "Please continue."

 

"You'll have to forgive me for my outburst." Stella sighed, pausing again as she continued to stall him. "The last 24 hours have been… unsettling to say the least."

 

Bane nodded, sensing his patience with her was about to be rewarded.

 

She shut her eyes tightly, and rubbed her sore temples. "Look," she continued, "I don't specialize in that kind of 'justice' journalism anymore. I lost my passion for it and I moved on. I'm afraid I can't help you."

 

"Miss Browning, I researched your background yesterday." Bane countered, pacing a slow circle around her desk. "You are a very accomplished, award-winning journalist who has all the qualifications needed for this project and more. Sparring with me will do you no good."

 

He stopped his pacing to position himself directly in front of her. "Open your eyes, Miss Browning. I will not take 'no' for an answer, because _you_ _are_ the one. And if you continue to refuse, I shall kill you _now_ rather than later."

 

Her eyes flew open immediately, although not in reaction to his threat. She suddenly sensed opportunity – an opportunity that penetrated her with a hypnotic, hazel gaze. And in order to benefit from that opportunity, all that was necessary was for her to do what she had been trained to do.

 

There was a story in Gotham waiting to be told, and Stella was perfectly positioned to do the telling. And if it meant she had to work for Bane, producing his 'project of hope' in order to write her own Gotham occupation story, then it was a fair trade-off.

 

Surely there were other journalists trapped in Gotham, those who were scrambling to write _their_ stories, but how many were Bane's prisoner, and how many were about to begin working for him?

 

Stella placed her hands flat on her desk, nodding in apparent surrender.

_Step forward, those who would serve, for an army will be raised._

 

"Well…" she exhaled brightly. "You don't appear to have a taste for low culture, but I'm guessing what _you_ want is a tabloid."

 

"I take it the answer is 'yes'." Bane stated, his voice a lazy, pleased rumble…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

After agreeing to produce a small, bi-weekly news tabloid for Bane, Stella soon found herself headed downtown with Barsad. It was her intention to visit key locations where she could pick up story ideas by interviewing as many of 'the people' as possible.

Barsad knew that Blackgate inmates were concentrating in the upscale areas for now, so for Stella's own safety he chose to travel with her through back alleys to avoid trouble. He was quietly determined to outfit her with a gun, though he strongly suspected she would give him trouble on that subject.

Maneuvering around crowds of shell-shocked citizens and malcontents, they eventually encountered a group of unruly boys wrestling amongst themselves. One of them, a sturdy 11-year old, stood up from the roughhousing and demanded the group's attention.

"Hey you guys, watch me!" He shouted. His hands gripped the invisible lapels of his jacket as he began to practice his version of Bane's swaggering steps. "Take control… Take control of your ci-tay." He mimicked loudly, his youthful voice echoing throughout the alleyways.

Boisterous laughter soared all around, before gradually dying away as one by one the boys recognized Barsad. The stunned sharpshooter stared incredulously at the one who mocked Bane, before eventually launching into a maniacal giggle of his own.

"That's very good, Ahmed!" Barsad cackled as he wiped tears of laughter from his face. "You're very talented!" He recognized the boys as being from Father Reilly's orphanage, as they were the same boys who had done occasional work for Bane in the sewers.

"Are you gonna tell him about this, Barsad?" Ahmed demanded boldly.

"Don't worry!" Barsad assured him with a wide and calculating grin. "I won't tell Bane. But in return, I want something from you, Ahmed." Barsad had just stumbled onto an idea that he was eager to put in motion. He had previously learned that when negotiating with Father Reilly's boys, it was better to get to the point and speak to them man-to-man in order to get what he wanted.

"This lady is Stella Browning, and she is your friend." The sharpshooter explained. "She's publishing a small tabloid newspaper for Bane, for which she requires reliable downtown distribution. I'm coming to you about this because no one in Gotham knows the city's grid as well as you men. We have worked together successfully in the sewers. So, can I rely on your services again?" Barsad asked.

Ahmed eyed Barsad with suspicion, as Stella stepped in to do her part. "It won't be a heavy tabloid." She assured the boy. "One page, cardstock, double-sided and folded in half. It will weigh almost nothing. You won't have any trouble delivering it. And I'm sure we'll be able to arrange a reward for your services." She promised impulsively, her eyes appealing to Barsad's alarmed expression.

"What kind of a newspaper?" Ahmed inquired, still suspicious.

"That's a fair question." Stella nodded. "It's going to be about surviving in the city while Bane is in charge. It's going to be about hope, because Bane wants us to have hope. Is that acceptable to you, Ahmed?" Stella asked.

Ahmed stared at Stella and felt his heart ache for the mother he couldn't remember. He shook himself back to reality and quickly looked to Barsad. He liked the idea of a reward.

"We ask that you deliver the tabloid in neighborhoods where the rich have been cast out, and in the peoples' neighborhoods." Barsad said. "Put them into mailboxes and mail slots, place them in high traffic areas, pass them out wherever you encounter line-ups for supplies…"

As Barsad moved to explain the details to some of the other boys, Ahmed reached for Stella's hand.

"Stella? Are you Barsad's girlfriend?" he asked shyly.

Stella was taken aback by the friendliness and trust of the boy, especially in light of his suspicion of Barsad. "No, Ahmed, I'm not. I believe Barsad is married!" she answered amusedly as she squeezed his hand.

"Did you know that Bane has a girlfriend?"

"He does?" She returned in a conspiratorial whisper, sensing that this was exactly the kind of information she needed for her secret Gotham story. "Well, what's her name?"

"Talia…. Talia Uhgool."

"Talia Uhgool." Stella repeated.

"Yeah!… She's Bane's boss, too."

After arranging to meet with Ahmed in two days, Barsad guided Stella through the city's rubble to the Court House, which had been severely compromised by Bane's men. Stella barely recognized the building. The judge's podium was stacked to the ceiling with desks and books, and at the very top of the stack sat Judge Jonathan Crane.

"Come closer, Ms. Browning!" Judge Crane called from his perch, his boyish voice echoing throughout the hall. "Happy to meet you. I was just informed that you would be visiting me. Please sit down and we'll begin our interview. You have exactly five minutes!" he stated, setting an egg timer before him and striking his gavel to indicate the antique chair on the floor.

However brief, Stella didn't enjoy her interview with the unbalanced judge because she could only wonder how it would feel to be sitting in the antique chair, knowing death was imminent. There was an element of humanity missing in the judge that disturbed her, and she was grateful to leave the chair. She didn't realize that Barsad stood ten feet behind during the interview, as Bane had directed him, with his rifle poised. Afterwards, she stayed to watch some of Crane's judgments, but as soon as Barsad spotted her angry tears, he urged her onwards.

He then ushered Stella to Gotham Pier, where citizens who chose a sentence of "exile" met cold, watery deaths. Stella interviewed several of the workers who kept the traffic moving on the ice, while Barsad remained vigilant that she didn't go anywhere near it herself. Bane's orders.

Next stop was the Daggett building, which was the place where Bane and his men set up operations after rejecting the offices of Gotham Woman. "I thought you might be interested in the opulence of this building, or should I say, the former opulence." Barsad sneered. "We trashed Daggett's rooms and evicted everyone. You might find a good story here…"

Stella toured a few floors and interviewed the members of Daggett's domestic staff who were still being held by Bane. At one point, Barsad excused himself, because Bane had summoned him to the building's parking garage.

"What's going on in the parking garage?" Stella asked with her usual curiosity. Abraham, who had taken Barsad's place, simply shrugged and shook his head, though he knew very well what was going on.

Before she could protest, Stella saw Natasha emerge from an office on the third floor. She was wearing doctor's scrubs and her long brown hair was braided.

"Hey!" she greeted Stella. "I finally met Bane!"

"And… are you okay?"

"I'm well, thanks! She replied cheerfully. "I've taken over a doctor's office and a condo unit here, so I'm set up. I had the distinct impression that Bane was none too pleased that I was a woman, especially when he told me I had to prove myself worthy of his army. I countered that the only way I could do that was by proving myself in my field. And I politely suggested that I give him a complete physical." Natasha laughed infectiously. "He really had no choice but to accept my challenge!"

Stella squirmed enviously at the thought of Natasha examining a gloriously naked Bane. Although it was on the tip of her tongue to ask Natasha for details, she thought better of it. That was unethical, and it was time to put a stop to her unhealthy attraction to the terrorist.

"Well, at least someone knows what's behind the mask now." She said sarcastically.

Natasha smiled perceptively at the blushing, pony-tailed journalist. "You know, you could do a lot worse, Stella. Now come on in. I want to take your blood and check you for concussion again."

In the parking garage, Bane and a few of his men were holding yet another prisoner, who was captured outside the offices of Gotham Woman that same afternoon.

"Why don't you tell me who you are and why you are here." Bane wheezed as he ripped the gag tape from the prisoner's mouth. The man, dressed in an Armani suit, was chained to the floor, and he shuddered at the sight of Bane's mask. "My men claim you wanted to be captured." The masked man suggested with mock disbelief.

"I've already explained it to your goons! I'm Matthew Black!" the man boasted with an obvious air of entitlement. "I'm the publisher of Gotham Woman, and I've accounted for all its employees but Stella Browning. I noticed how many men you had watching the building, and I put two and two together. I figured you had her, because she's definitely a prize for dirty foreigners!"

Bane gestured to his men. "Leave us." He ordered in a sinister tone. He suspected the interrogation was about to enter sensitive territory and he didn't want his men to know that he could be ruled by jealousy or weakness for a woman. It was bad enough that some of them were aware of his relationship with Talia.

After all the men except Barsad had retreated, Bane roughly hoisted the publisher into the air and violently slammed him against the wall, cutting off Black's ability to breathe properly.

"Assuming I do have Stella Browning, what is she to you?" Bane asked in a lethal tone. He disliked having to ask the next question. "You are… her lover?"

"N-no!" Black squawked, desperate to breathe, and easily sensing Bane's possessiveness toward Stella. "She says she's never had those kinds of feelings for me."

Bane silently considered the man's answer for a time before responding.

"But you want her..." he observed unsympathetically.

"I…I…" Matthew stammered. The handsome publisher paused for moment before deciding to go for broke. "Look, pal…" He smirked condescendingly, assuming Bane's mask was an impediment to romance. "I know you can't relate, but of course I want Stella – who wouldn't? There's a running competition between me and two other guys from the office as to who will fuck her first!"

Black himself had slept with many women, and he'd pulled some crazy stunts to lure them into the bedroom. Getting himself caught by Bane's men was by far the craziest, but Matthew Black was seriously beginning to regret his supreme arrogance.

"…so you thought you'd swoop down to rescue her," Bane continued, speaking in a low tone, his voice a disturbingly chilly center of calm, "because she might be grateful to you… see you in a different light. Does Mrs. Black know of your extramarital obsession, Mr. Black?"

Black's eyes widened in terror, as he realized Bane was privy to far more than just his longing for Stella. He had flattered himself with the fantasy that Stella would be grateful for his rescue and willingly submit as he banged her all night long. But that fantasy had faded significantly once the masked man began his interrogation.

"Look…" Black sputtered. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about. Just keep my wife out of this!"

Bane's eyes glittered dangerously. "Your attempted rescue failed." He rumbled. "I am very sorry to inform you that Stella Browning is no longer in your employ. She works for me now."

"You filthy bastard! You're fucking her, aren't you?" He charged as he lunged at Bane despite the weight of the chains.

A toxic combination of jealousy and aggression surged through Bane's body, and he responded by crushing Matthew Black's windpipe with the fingers of his left hand. He patiently watched as the man twitched and gurgled, before falling into the same heap as the chains that held him.

"No." Bane answered lightly as he waited for the man's body to stop twitching. "Not yet."

Sensing his lieutenant's approach, he turned his head to the left.

"How did you know about the wife?" Barsad asked.

Bane turned full circle to look Barsad in the eye. "I was bluffing…" he admitted cheerfully, his eyes twinkling. "Bring her to me, Barsad, by way of the south stairwell."

He was waiting patiently at the foot of the south stairwell when Barsad arrived with Stella.

"What's going on down here?" She asked nervously as Bane gestured for her to walk with him.

"You are here because my men captured an extremely handsome fellow today, a Mr. Matthew Black, as he approached the offices of Gotham Woman." Bane stated in a business-like manner.

"Matt...? Where is he now?" Stella asked, trying not to show any alarm.

"He claimed to be your employer, and that you were the only member of his staff not yet accounted for. He correctly assumed that you were our prisoner, and deliberately got himself caught in a misbegotten attempt to rescue you.

"So where is he now?" Stella asked, the panic rising in her voice.

"You did not tell me you had an admirer." Bane said ominously, gripping her arm possessively and pulling her close. The white hot jealousy he endured earlier had returned with a far greater intensity.

"There's nothing between us." she exclaimed, horrified by the suggestion of a romance between her and the conceited publisher. "Even if I were attracted to him, he has a wife, so I would never have anything to do with him. I've told him that over and over! Stella struggled to wrench herself free from his firm grip. "Let go of me, please!"

Bane felt himself relax significantly as he released Stella. He was very pleased that her story matched the one told by Black.

"Well, apparently he did not take your protests seriously." He observed as he urged her forward. "His intent was to rescue you in hopes of winning your affections, my dear. A very foolish move, since he had no real plan for escape once we captured him."

Stella's eyes narrowed. "What is it with you men?" she asked, directing an accusing stare at Bane. "You walk into women's lives and make decisions for us behind our backs, because you think you know best, and because it's what you want. And you won't take 'no' for an answer…"

"He will not bother you anymore." Bane interjected. The knowledge that three men had wanted Stella had strongly aroused his manhood – without his permission. He normally wielded strict control of his appetites, but lately he'd experienced a few surprises.

"I'm …so humiliated." Stella seethed quietly. "I can take care of myself. I don't need a man to rescue me."

"I shall endeavor to remember that, my dear." Bane frowned as he fought a commanding urge to take her body.

As they rounded a corner, Stella was confronted by the corpse of her boss, face up and motionless on a pile of chains, with a permanent expression of agony on his face. She viewed the scene in a paralyzed state before finally rushing to the nearest corner and kneeling to vomit on the concrete floor.

Apart from the few times he had shown her unwanted attentions, Matthew Black had been an excellent publisher, nurturing her career at Gotham Woman after her return from Africa. He didn't deserve an end like this. No one did. Stella felt as though she had hit bottom. Matthew Black was dead; Gotham Woman and her job were well and truly dead. She was a prisoner in a city that was scheduled to die in five months. This was her reality, and she wondered how she could go on.

Bane watched silently as she choked on sobs and dry heaves, and nodded approvingly when she began to control her emotions with deep breathing. She would soon adapt, he assured himself.

"Come, Stella." he said softly, extending his hand to her, and using her name for the first time.

Stella turned to look at him, wiping her tear-stained face with her sleeve. She had promised herself that she would never cry in his presence, but the vow was short-lived.

"Did you kill him?" she asked quietly, noticing the blood on his fingers.

"Yes." Bane offered. He saw no reason to lie to her.

Stella placed her fingertips to the floor and pushed herself into a standing position.

"I can get myself up, thank you."


	4. Chapter 4

"I mean I finally understand what all the fuss is about."

Thelma, Thelma & Louise

Chapter 4

Work. For many it fed, clothed and sheltered. For others, work was a calling or service for a greater good. For still more, work was an expression of creativity, or of a great love. Work was a buffer when it filled the days, eased loneliness, and soothed the soul. But work was also avoidance, and distraction…

So Stella worked. Since Bane murdered her former employer, she was grateful for the work that kept her mind off the incident. Regardless of her protests, Barsad insisted she learn to use a gun, and each day he took her to a secluded area for target practice. During the daylight hours, she became unexpectedly enthusiastic about her work on the tabloid, and wrote draft versions of three stories for the first edition.

In the late evenings, she sat propped up on her tiny, uncomfortable bed and drafted the story of her experience in occupied Gotham as the prisoner of Bane. Since Bane allowed no internet, her biggest obstacle would be getting the story out of the city and into the hands of a publisher. Working on the tabloid would give her the opportunity of a lifetime. She could observe Bane, his men and his mission, as well as the mysterious 'Talia', whom one of Father Reilly's boys claimed was both Bane's girlfriend and his boss.

During one of her target practice sessions with Barsad, Stella learned that boldly asking questions probably wasn't the best approach, after she attempted to pry details from Bane's second-in-command.

"Why does Bane wear the mask, Barsad? I've noticed he seems to be in pain, and he sometimes moves with difficulty. You tell me about him, and I'll learn to shoot your AK-47 if that's what you want." Stella promised.

Barsad returned Stella's quizzical gaze with a neutral expression. "What mask?" he asked passively.

Stella sighed. "Can't you share a few details about him?"

Barsad groaned inwardly. Sooner or later he knew Stella was going to pump him for information about Bane. She was a journalist, after all. He knew he should have been meaner and more aggressive towards her from the beginning, but it was difficult to work with her every day, share her enthusiasm for the tabloid, and not be friendly with her.

My keeper was a man named Barsad, who was the very antithesis of Bane. He was small and soft-spoken, with deep-set blue eyes and a scruffy dark beard. I don't know what possessed Bane to turn me over to his second-in-command. That he did was to my advantage. Thanks to Barsad's talents, I had a tabloid template and a distribution plan in a matter of two days. And I also had my first taste of Barsad's unshakable loyalty towards his superior the day I questioned him about Bane's mask…

He shook his head and exhaled. "I'm sorry, Stella. I like you, but I won't tell you anything." Barsad offered her a hard stare, never once blinking, and he was quiet for a moment before continuing. "And if I see or hear of you asking questions about him, I will seek his permission to shoot you. Bane is my brother and my loyalty is to him. You need to understand this now, or else we are finished here."

Although shaken by Barsad's threat, Stella wasn't surprised by his refusal to talk to her.

"I understand, Barsad." She said, nodding sharply and swallowing hard. This was a side of him she hadn't seen before, and the fact that he was holding a gun when he spoke both unsettled and interested her.

"Now… as for shooting an AK-47…" Barsad began, as he returned to his usual pleasant manner and lazy smile. "I think you're too ambitious. Let's choose a gun according to your own specific needs…

On the fifth evening of her captivity, Barsad informed her that Bane wanted to see her on the roof of her building, and that she was to bring samples of the work she'd done so far. "I will take you up to the door of the roof." Barsad told her sternly. "From there you go alone. When you return I'll be waiting for you inside that same door."

Although reluctant, Stella stuffed her layouts into the pocket of her khaki jacket, and climbed the ladder that would take her to Bane. Given their previous encounter in the parking garage, the last place she wanted to be was on a secluded rooftop with him. She hadn't forgotten the sight of Matthew Black's blood all over his fingers. As she approached the far side of the roof, she saw him standing in silhouette, and noted that his hands were hanging from the lapels of his jacket.

Upon closer look, she realized he was staring up at the stars, and although he was frowning, his expression was one of unabashed trust and belief. Fascinated, Stella moved next to him and joined him in silent worship of the night skies.

"What's up there for you?" she whispered, completely forgetting that she had intended to offer him an icy veneer.

Bane didn't speak for the longest time. "Freedom." He eventually rasped.

"From what?" The words were barely out of Stella's mouth before she realized how thoughtless they must have sounded. She sensed that Bane was tired and irritable and wondered if his comment had something to do with the mask. Once again she was drawn to touch the soft, flushed skin above his mask, and a wave of compassion washed over her.

"Forgive me…" she said as she impulsively placed her hand on his sturdy right arm and squeezed it reassuringly. "That was insensitive."

Bane's curious gaze lowered to her hand, startling Stella with the sight of a generous sweep of brown eyelashes that protected his hazel orbs. He caught her expression as he brought his gaze up to meet hers, and he felt his sore temper drifting away.

"You are looking extremely well, Stella. I see you have recovered from your recent distress." He said.

He worried that he had miscalculated with the stubborn journalist. Bane had replayed the parking garage incident in his mind several times, and although he didn't regret killing Matthew Black, he regretted showing Stella the body. Thus far the woman had been very cooperative, so why terrorize her? As well, he recognized his own intentions toward Stella reflected in the lustful ambitions of the womanizing publisher, and the realization revolted him. He was a much better man than Matthew Black, and yet he had given Stella Browning no reason to believe it. Damn it, Talia…

"I am more than curious to see your work." Bane said, deciding it was best to bring up the subject of the tabloid immediately. "I'd hoped to have seen some of it by now." He reproached her somewhat gently.

Stella could have sworn there was a hint of playfulness in his voice… that he was attempting to flirt with her. She panicked, and clumsily launched into her presentation.

"I've named the tabloid 'The Gotham Reckoning'." she announced awkwardly. "Do you approve?"

"Of course." Bane agreed. "Please continue."

She felt a knot form in her stomach as she handed him the first of her tabloid layouts, complete with her bylines. What if he didn't like them? What if he was disappointed by her work and decided to rape and kill her?

Dirty Deals and Naughty Nights

by Stella Browning

How bad business, drugs and women brought down the empire of John Daggett.

Only The Reckoning brings you the inside story as told by Mrs. Lupe Feliz, Daggett's long-time housekeeper.

When the brutalized body of John Daggett was found in a dumpster, few would have guessed this business rival of Bruce Wayne had dark secrets, but The Reckoning has uncovered…

"I despised that man." Bane said coldly as he looked up from Stella's copy. "You have done well in exposing his weaknesses." He decided it was best not to confide that it was he who had actually murdered Daggett.

"It's a very sleazy story, isn't it?" Stella agreed, unable to conceal her pride at having dug up a scandal. "After reading Mrs. Feliz' revelations, I don't think there's anyone in Gotham who will care that Daggett ended his life in a dumpster."

"Of course not, my dear." Bane chirped, staring at her with amusement and greatly admiring her apparent lack of compassion. "But where is the hope?"

This was the tricky part on which Stella knew she would have to sell him. She took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eyes.

"The hope lies with Mrs. Feliz, Bane. She's a widow with six children, and your men have been holding her hostage at the Daggett building…"

Bane shifted uncomfortably. "I do not like the direction in which this conversation is headed, Stella." He said as his annoyance rose.

"Bane…" Stella continued, undaunted, "We can publish a photo of Mrs. Feliz as she is re-united with her family… free of John Daggett, and free of your men. She'll still be trapped in the city of course, but having been released from your custody, she'll be a huge symbol of hope for the people!"

Bane was silent for a long moment. Mrs. Feliz had been a very willing source of information with regard to Daggett's secret accounts, due to the fact that Bane treated her far better than Daggett ever did. Ultimately he saw no reason why the woman couldn't be re-united with her family if it would give the people hope.

"She will be released the day before your story appears in print." Bane assured Stella. "You will inform me of your production schedule and I will make the arrangements."

Stella beamed, briefly worrying that Bane would want something in return for the favour he granted her. "Thank you, Bane." She whispered gratefully. "If you knew how horribly Daggett treated her – !

"I warn you not to make a habit of this, Stella." Bane interrupted her abrasively. "I am well aware of your humanitarian background, but we are not in the business of charity here. Now, let us see what else you have, girl."

Silently, she passed him her second layout.

Meet the Court Jester

Dr. Jonathan Crane, formerly of Arkham Asylum, is the man who sends deserving Gothamites to exile and death. The 37-year old blue-eyed bachelor is a perfect fit for the job. The Reckoning's Stella Browning sits down with Judge Crane for an exclusive interview…

The Reckoning: How did psychiatry prepare you to be a judge?

Judge Crane: They are very similar professions, because there is no emotional involvement. In both fields, I observe from a distance.

The Reckoning: How do you feel about all the young women watching you from every corner of the Courthouse?

Judge Crane: It's very flattering. I could possibly meet my soul mate when she sits down to judgment before me. Unfortunately, for her it will be either death, or exile …

"The Court Jester will be a regular feature, in which Judge Crane discusses the week's dispatched citizens." Stella explained. "I'll portray him as a stand-up comedian, and a buffoon. I believe readers will enjoy the satirical take on him, because it will undermine the truly sinister work that he does."

Bane nodded. "Crane is a fool, and that's why I put him in court."

But Stella had already moved on to the third example. "This story is my favorite so far." She said, unable to hide her excitement as she handed him the third layout.

Navigating Exile

by Stella Browning

Your guide to a safe journey

Eugene Stemkowski, employed by the Court as a 'Judgment Facilitator' shows us how to beat the ice at Gotham Pier when our number comes up.

"Whatever you do, don't stand in one place for too long." advises Stemkowski, a 42-year old married father of four…

"And I thought we might also include a diagram showing the safest placement of feet on the ice…"

Concerned by Bane's apparent lack of enthusiasm, Stella quickly completed her pitch. "We'll have to include some current news, police sightings, lists of operating businesses, etc. But the overall editorial slant will be one of hope, and we can definitely create that environment with stories like the ones I've shown you."

Bane's eyes bore into Stella with his usual intense interest. "You have taken to your assignment like a duck to water, Stella." He observed, somewhat overwhelmed. "Had I been acquainted with you a few days earlier I would have ordered you to write my Blackgate speech."

There it was again - the hint of flirtation in his voice.

"Hah! Well, this tabloid is going to be a lot of work, Bane." She said bluntly. "I used to be well paid for a job like this." She hoped her apparent greed would be enough to cool his approaching ardor.

"You will find that the job has its rewards." He said, as his eyes swept the length of her body.

Stella's cheeks stained with colour, and her whole body grew weak as she pictured herself squirming in his arms.

"I… think it's probably time for me to leave." She said as she shoved the layouts into her pocket and self-consciously wrapped her arms around her body. "I won't take any more of your time."

"Not so quickly, my dear. I have not dismissed you yet." Bane cautioned, reaching out for her. She was trembling now, and he found her nervousness very appealing. Now that he had a firm grip on her pulse, he discovered she was exactly as he hoped. Fine boned and delicate, with a strong heart.

"I'm not dismissed?" she mocked him, half offended and half frightened. Save for the moonlight and the odd streetlight, it was dark, and Stella worried what his hands might do. Her brown eyes widened fearfully.

Bane noticed the sudden alarm in her expression and moved quickly to calm her fears. Loosening his grip on her wrist, his thumb travelled downwards, and began to gently massage the soft pads that made up the palm of her sweaty hand.

Stella blushed anew. "Stop that!" she gasped, even though her body had given in to the pleasure of his touch, and wanted more.

"You are familiar with Palmistry?" Bane asked softly.

"Enough to know that it's nonsense…" Stella squeaked as Bane's pleasuring massage coursed throughout her body.

"Of course it is, but where I grew up it helped to pass the time..." he said. "This is the Heart line… and this is the Marriage line." His stare gripped hers while he continued to softly knead the significant points of her palm.

The expression in his eyes put Stella into a full-bodied swoon…"Maybe…maybe you could tell me about where you grew up…" she sighed, feeling as if in a dream, but also sensing great material for her story.

"Perhaps, Stella, darling." Bane answered softly. "But for now we must discuss the business of your tabloid bylines. I'm afraid I cannot allow you to assume credit for your stories. Your name must not appear."

Stella's mouth dropped open as she snapped back to reality. "Why?" she demanded. "They are my stories. I wrote them!"

"I know you did." Bane said. "But I cannot allow you to use your name, because in this city, your name is associated with a magazine intended for Gotham's female elite. You heard my speech at Blackgate, did you not?" Bane asked. "The tabloid belongs to the people, and they would not approve of your byline."

Stella nodded dumbly in affirmation. "So, all of my stories have to be written by "The People of Gotham." she guessed.

Bane released Stella's hand as she collapsed against the wall of the rooftop, and rolled her eyes skyward.

"Yes." he said bluntly. There was a long silence between them as Bane observed her inner turmoil. He watched as her heaving chest fought off tears, and her hands absent-mindedly rubbed up and down the front of her thighs. Finally, she spoke.

"I understand. Really I do, Bane. It's best for the political climate. But… I worked so hard. Do you realize how difficult it is to write about hope without lying to your readers?" she asked. "In the real world, if a publisher took away my byline I'd bite off his head. But this isn't the real world, and you are my publisher."

"I am pleased with your ethical standards, that you do not wish to lie to your readers." Bane admitted, relieved that she had taken the news as well as she did. If she had fought him, he probably would have had to kill her. "You are disappointed. But all is not lost, is it my dear? There is always your other project."

Stella shivered. "What? What do you mean?" she asked nervously.

Bane advanced toward the wall and crowded Stella into a small space with his large body. "I have encountered my fair share of journalists, Stella Browning, and I am not naïve to their inner workings. If you aren't planning a story about your own experiences here in Gotham, then you're not doing your job properly. he said as he captured her eyes.

Stella was speechless. "You're not angry?" she asked cautiously, forced to look straight up at him. "I thought you'd strangle me if you found out I was writing about you."

"On the contrary, I am very pleased. I look forward to reading it." He said, his ragged, musical timbre ending on a high note. "The important thing is that you can put your own name on it, and reveal that you were the author of The Gotham Reckoning. You realize, of course, that you will have to find a way to get the story out of the city and into the hands of your colleagues at Vanity Fair or Esquire."

Stella could tell by his eyes that he was smiling behind the mask. "Oh, I'm working on that." she laughed loudly. "I was an idiot to think I could hide my story from you."

He had not heard her laughter since that first day, when it had drawn him to her. Now he fought a desire to take her into his arms, but he didn't want to frighten her away. He needed to give her time and space.

Instead of holding her, he moved away and simply said, "I am very pleased with your work on the tabloid, and I thank you for your cooperation and professionalism."

"Well thank you." Stella said amiably. "Maybe you'll at least give me a reference one day?"

Bane growled softly, a sound that raised goose bumps all over Stella's body. "You worry far too much about your career, Stella." He stated dryly.

"My career is my life, Bane." She shivered. "I don't have anything else."

"So tell me about yourself." Bane commanded, playful once again.

Stella's heart pounded as she wondered what she could possibly tell him about herself that he might find interesting. She felt insecure, embarrassed and unimportant.

She looked away from him and said, "I'm… I'm not very good at talking about myself. Why don't you just ask me what you want to know?" Now she wanted desperately to hide herself in her tiny bedroom, and huddle under the hard bed's itchy blanket. She wished Bane would allow her to leave.

"You have no husband. You are… untouched?" Bane asked curiously.

"What a question!" Stella blushed hotly. "No! I…I'm not. But I've always… put my career first, and there hasn't been a lot of … time for men."

It was her standard excuse. Stella's voice died away as she glanced downward, self-consciously brushing dirt from her khaki jacket. Already she had said too much, but she couldn't make herself stop until she'd followed up with her standard defense.

"And quite honestly, I don't see what all the fuss is about…" she muttered cynically.

There was silence for a moment before she glanced hesitantly at Bane. She watched his eyes darken and his chest begin to heave in fascination of what he'd just heard. And when his brow began to quiver, like a lion targeting its prey, Stella realized the gravity of her confession.

She had just given him the keys to the candy store...


	5. Chapter 5

"Is it better for a man to have chosen evil than to have good imposed

upon him?"

-Anthony Burgess, A Clockwork Orange

 

Chapter 5

Bane had one more meeting to take on the rooftop of Gotham Woman. But for now he was very content to look out on a part of Gotham that he found curiously acceptable, with its rows of working class, red brick housing, tiny gardens and narrow streets. Although he had chosen the Daggett building as base, Bane didn't like its rooftop, surrounded as it was by similar glittering high-rise buildings, symbols of Gotham's decadence.

"So this is where you've been hiding yourself." A woman's voice sounded in the night, and it was not just any woman's voice. It was the voice Bane knew best, and the one he loved most.

Talia al Ghul was as accomplished as any member of the League of Shadows, and she slipped skillfully through the darkness to wrap herself around Bane's right arm and snuggle against him. "You've done a magnificent job in the city, Bane." She praised. "It's so quiet without Bruce, isn't it?"

Bane blinked. Bruce again. She could scarcely converse five minutes without mentioning his name, and Bane was heartily sick of hearing about him. He had broken the Batman, delivered him to the Pit, and condemned him to watch the destruction of Gotham.

But Talia still spoke of Bruce incessantly and fondly, as if she were going to see him again. The resulting turmoil inside Bane was beginning to wear him down, and he wondered how much more he could take. He had not been himself lately…

"You miss him." He observed with a calm façade, fixing his gaze on the stars above.

"I miss deceiving him." Talia corrected him with a grin, easily recognizing Bane's jealousy.

Of course she missed Bruce, but it was impossible to make Bane understand why. She had easily given herself to the billionaire, and thoroughly enjoyed every single moment of their tryst. She only wished that she'd had more time to spellbind Bruce with her sexual proclivities. Making a man fall in love with her was Talia's favourite part of the job, and she reveled in it.

Bane steeled himself for the return of a familiar discourse between them. He had recently made a decision regarding his personal destiny in Gotham, one that didn't sit well with Talia, although she made every attempt to appear calm in its wake. Compounding that decision was his rejection of her sexual advances, overtures she began only when it became clear that she no longer held him totally in her sway.

She was all he'd ever had, the only person he'd ever loved, and his only family. But for many months, Bane had been weaning himself spiritually and psychologically from Talia, and he felt he had made progress. He would always love the child he protected, and the young woman for whom he had nursed a forbidden love. But over the years Talia had changed. A kind of madness had settled over her as she became obsessed with avenging the death of her father, Ra's al Ghul. Bane had become increasingly at odds with her quest, because he'd already sacrificed so much to save Talia. Why should he now join her sacrifice to avenge the death of the man who ex-communicated him from the League of Shadows?

And yet, the day of her death would be the beginning of untold grief for him. He knew the depth of his mourning would bring unbearable anguish, and regret. But he was willing to face it all. There was a reason why he endured a near fatal beating and painful rehabilitation. There was a reason why he subverted his injuries to become a physical titan and member of the League of Shadows. He was a leader now, a powerful, intelligent and feared man who had much to offer. Surely there was something or someone out there for him other than the black hole Talia offered.

"If you and I were lovers, then you would die with me." Talia broke into his thoughts, a hint of hardness in her voice as she slipped her right hand into his pocket and began to explore.

"Talia, we are not going to be lovers, and I am not going to die with you." Bane replied wearily.

"You lied to me, but I forgive you because you are my protector…" she whispered as she laid her head against his shoulder. Talia had every confidence in her powers of seduction, and she fully expected to get her way with him sooner or later…

"I did not lie." Bane said, annoyed by his body's response to Talia's manipulations. "You naturally presumed that I would accompany you into the dark, but you never asked me what I wanted. Has it ever occurred to you that I am not your servant?"

Talia ignored his question, and stuck to her favourite part of the job. "Let's leave Gotham for a few weeks… We could go to Paris or Tuscany…"

"That is 'Miranda Tait' talking." Bane interrupted her testily. "Kindly refrain from using her voice in my presence, Talia. I do not appreciate it."

But Talia remained undaunted. "Don't be so stubborn, Bane! Come with me to my townhouse and I'll prove my love…" She promised as she hugged him closely.

"You know my terms. Laugh if you must, Talia, but I cannot be your lover unless I am the center of your universe. Not your father, not Bruce Wayne, nor even yourself. If we are to be lovers, your sun must rise and set on me. We both know that it doesn't."

Talia squeezed his arm affectionately. Her protector was endearingly chauvinistic, yet strangely innocent. Her heart was so full of love for him, but it wasn't the kind of love he wanted.

"Oh please, Bane…" Talia whispered in the soft lisp he loved so well. "I can make you so happy. Please, please let me make you happy…"

"For how long, Talia? Five months?" Bane asked pointedly as he carefully removed her wandering hand from his groin.

He had once longed to be her husband, and it would be so easy to give in and take her body now. But he wouldn't have her heart, and without it he would descend into a pit of self-loathing, another cast-off in a line of men used by her. And then he would die with her.

Not now, he vowed silently…. and not after Bruce Wayne.

"Let's not talk about it any more tonight, my dear." She begged. "Let's just enjoy the stars, as we used to. Do you remember?"

The next two days were a blur for Stella as she worked to complete the first edition of the tabloid. The front page carried positive news about Bane's activities thus far, as well as the stories she had written, where as the back page contained community information. In this respect, Abraham had proven to be invaluable. He knew which establishments were open for business and where people could line up for food and hardware supplies. He provided updates to martial law in the city, and he was aware of any police sightings in Gotham. All these items were reported in The Gotham Reckoning.

It was Thursday, and Barsad accompanied Stella to the Daggett building. She now had the publishing date of the first The Gotham Reckoning, and Bane had agreed to release Mrs. Lupe Feliz the day before publication.

When Stella arrived, she spotted Natasha and Bane standing at the end of the corridor outside Natasha's office, and they were in serious conversation.

"I'm so pleased that you recognize it can't go on this way." Stella heard Natasha say. Her arms were crossed as she gave Bane her entire attention. She was dressed in her doctor's scrubs, wearing her unisex eyeglasses, with her hair braided to one side.

Stella didn't intend to eavesdrop, but she couldn't help but hear snippets of what was being said.

" – and I know it won't be easy, but I'm totally committed if you are. We can do this." The petite doctor assured him.

Bane nodded throughout the parts of the conversation Stella could hear. He was deep in thought, hands resting in front of him, with the fingers of his right hand gripping those of his left. Eventually, Stella heard him quietly say "Thank you, Dr. Van Dyne."

Although she was extremely curious, Stella turned away, not wishing to intrude.

As Natasha and Bane emerged slowly from the corridor, Bane spotted Stella and his eyes began to glitter in amusement. He hadn't forgotten his meeting with her on the rooftop, when she had confessed her disappointment with the sexual act.

"Good morning…" Stella said shyly. She knew the reason for his smile, and she felt her skin warming uncontrollably. Once again she clumsily rushed into conversation.

"I'm here to tie-up loose ends for the tabloid, Bane. Barsad has arranged for it to be printed at a downtown establishment already occupied by your men. It will be distributed Saturday morning by St. Swithin's boys – the ones who worked for you in the sewers. I'm hopeful you'll release Mrs. Feliz tomorrow, if you don't mind." She said hurriedly.

"That is a fine plan, Stella…" Bane agreed. "Barsad, release Mrs. Feliz tomorrow morning at 9:00 a.m. Deliver her home safely in one of the Wayne tumblers. She will likely want privacy."

"Thank you so much, Bane." Stella said nervously. "Now… there is something else, and I know you're not going to be happy about it. I promised the boys there would be a reward for their help."

Bane's eyes narrowed. "Charity again, Miss Browning? Have I not already made myself clear to you on this matter?"

"Yes, yes you have, and I'm sorry but I needed to seal the deal right then and there. I saw opportunity and I took it." Stella said boldly.

"And I suppose…" Bane suggested matter-of-factly, "young Ahmed secured that promise from you."

Stella shrugged. "I don't know his name." She lied. "And he had nothing to do with my decision."

Bane took slow, deliberate steps toward Stella, hands hanging from the straps of his vest, eyes unblinkingly focused on her.

"You will not disobey me again, woman!" he threatened in a dangerously low metallic voice. "You will do as I say in these matters. There will be no more charity."

Stella blinked in horror. "I've heard enough!" she said heatedly. "Don't ever speak to me in that tone of voice! I'm not your wife!"

Bane frowned, genuinely taken aback by her words. She was very angry, and he admitted to himself that she had justifiably reprimanded him. Bane stared back at her in disbelief and admiration as he considered the weight of her words. No, indeed she was not his wife. And it bothered him that she assumed he would speak to his wife that way.

He had always prided himself on his modernity as a leader. He wasn't one of those warlords who clung to ancient ways. Perhaps he still had some catching up to do... However, he was certain that his frustration with Talia was the reason for his unacceptable behavior towards Stella, and his initial objections to having a female doctor.

There followed a long, uncomfortable silence, during which Stella feared he would snap her neck.

"I would be pleased to see you on the rooftop this evening." Bane said, ending the silence and choosing his language carefully. "If I may, I would like to see your final tabloid proof. And then, I hope you will entertain me further with your opinions on the state of matrimony."

With that, Bane abruptly left with Barsad, having been called to a downtown alley on an urgent matter.

"Egomaniacal bastard!" Stella muttered. "I suppose that's his idea of an apology." But she couldn't stop the warmth flooding her cheeks or the smile that just had to have its way.

Meanwhile, Natasha's fascinated eyes had bounced back and forth between Stella and Bane during their confrontation.

"Abraham, I need to see Stella privately please!" she said. "Just for a few moments?"

Abraham had his cell phone in hand. "Y-you have one m-minute!" he said. "I've j-just been ordered to f-follow, and I'll…I'll t-take Stella with m-me. There's n-no time to take her b-back to her off-off-office."

Natasha pulled Stella into her office and forced her to sit. "How are you fixed for contraception?" she asked bluntly.

When they arrived at the alley, Bane and Barsad encountered a grim sight.

Two mercenaries were dead. Each had been shot in the forehead and had their hands tied behind their backs. The man taking ownership of the murders had spoken to GCN cameras earlier and had demanded to meet with Bane.

Stella and Abraham arrived soon after Bane and Barsad, and they pushed as far forward through the crowd of spectators as possible.

"Well, well! It's about time you showed up!" A large, pock-marked man in his mid-40s, dressed in an unflattering orange jumpsuit and carrying a baseball bat emerged from the back alley. He had thinning, greasy hair and an unshaven complexion, and he was very irritable.

He was clearly a Blackgate inmate. Bane said nothing, but stared inquisitively at the man, waiting for him to speak again.

"Okay, I'll start." The man said with barely concealed hostility. "The name is Monk. Four letters. One name. Just like you, pal."

"And what can I do for you, Mr. Monk?" Bane rasped somewhat wearily.

"Well, first of all, I'd like to offer my respect, Bane, for you and your guys doin' all the hard work. Thanks to you, there ain't a thing left for me to do but enjoy the spoils. So thanks for tearin' up the town, lockin' up the cops and releasin' us poor victims of the Dent act." He growled sarcastically.

"I am a busy man." Bane said impatiently. "You killed two of my men to get my attention. Now, what is it you want?"

A burst of testosterone propelled the inmate as Monk lunged forward in an attempt to intimidate Bane, but the masked man didn't move.

"You phony!" Monk spat. "You talk just like the corrupt people you're tryin' to crush. You're just as uppity as them!"

"Point taken, Mr. Monk." Bane acknowledged, extremely bored by the man's prattle. "And no doubt you wish me to turn the city over to you now."

"That's right, Sherlock." Monk drawled. "An' the way your men died? That's not my callin' card. I'm no serial killer. I just wanted to get your attention, so I shot them guys with the rifle your men handed to me as I left Blackgate. But I want you to know that until you hand over Gotham to me, I'll keep on killin' your men. Ya see…" he said, addressing Barsad. "I'm a sharpshooter, too."

Barsad cast Bane a concerned glance. He had been the main distributor of the rifles and he couldn't help but feel responsible for the deaths of the men.

"What think you, Barsad?" Bane called to his second-in-command. "Do we fear this man?"

"I believe Mr. Monk is a fool, Bane." Barsad sneered loudly. "It won't take me long to take him out. He'll be dead by nightfall." He shrugged.

"Do you hear my man?" Bane asked the inmate. "Your chances aren't very good."

"Ya think so, huh? Well, I'm no petty thief framed by that pussy Dent Act!" Monk blustered. His baseball bat bounced loudly to the ground as the inmate clenched his fists. "I'm an old-fashioned guy. I'm a cop killer, and as such I earned my way legitimately into Blackgate. Yeah…" he said, nodding and delighting in the memories as he began to massage his crotch. "I shot one cop in the head during a bank robbery, an' while I was gettin' away, I slammed another cop through the windshield when he stopped me on a traffic violation. I grabbed his wallet, drove to his house, and screwed his wife, all before she even knew he was dead." He crowed.

"You son-of-a bitch!" Stella whispered, sickened by the man's boasts. It had been a while since she'd worked as a street reporter, and she realized how much she missed it. She watched the reporters from GCN enviously, and resolved to tell Bane that she wanted to do more work from the streets. Meanwhile, she hoped the palm-sized audio recorder that she'd pinned to her pocket picked up all of the confrontation between Bane and Monk. She reminded herself that she had intended to confront Bane about his release of rapists and murderers into the population. But the tabloid and her overall obsession with him had prevented her from doing so thus far…

"The reality is… you're just passin' through, pal." Monk observed. "But I've lived here my whole life, so I'm takin' what's mine. An' while I'm at it, I'll take Blondie too." He said, indicating Stella. "It's been a long, dry season, and I need some instant refreshment."

Stella hadn't realized how close she was to the scene. Now she blanched at Monk's scrutiny, jumping as she felt an arm slip around her waist and draw her firmly away from the melée. It was Abraham. "Stay b-back." he stammered.

Concerned for Stella's safety, Bane moved quickly to create a diversion. "If you want control of Gotham, then come and take it from me." he challenged cheerfully, shedding his coat and beckoning the inmate toward him with twitching fingers. Monk pounded his right fist into the palm of his left hand, and accepted Bane's challenge.

Bane allowed the burly inmate to land several blows that were intended to give him false confidence. Monk was as big as his opponent, but he was flabby and had neither the mercenary's speed nor his precision. Bane returned Monk's punches with a few well-placed and devastating hits, gravely disorienting the man before sending him to the pavement with a sickening kick to the stomach.

With Monk now flat on his back, Bane hovered over top of him, and pounded the man's jaw left, right and left again, likely causing a serious neck injury. He then gripped Monk around the neck and raised him into the air, as the inmate gasped for breath.

Bane wasn't even winded. "Did you really think your once-a-week visits to the exercise yard at Blackgate would give you an advantage over me?" He taunted as he pounded the hapless Monk back to the pavement.

Desperate now, Monk staggered to his feet and swung blindly in repeated strokes, hoping he'd somehow connect with the masked man. Eventually, his spent body dropped to the ground in a crumbled, exhausted heap.

"Mr. Monk, I spared your life only because I fancy another joust with you." Bane rumbled as he towered over Monk's fallen form. "You were released from Blackgate to serve my purposes. And serve me you shall. Until we meet again, I leave you with a parting gift." With no hesitation, Bane reached into Monk's crotch with his right hand and crushed the man's penis.

Stella had never heard such an anguished cry from a man. It was an earsplitting, high-pitched scream that soared throughout the entire downtown area, until it died away to a persistent, self-pitying wail.

Bane knelt beside the inmate, carefully wiping his bloody hand on the front of Monk's orange jumpsuit. Directing a thoughtful stare at the swollen eyes of the sobbing jailbird, he spoke.

"You will never violate another man's wife again." Bane told him quietly. "You will never violate any woman again."

He rose, and as he put on his coat, he scanned the crowd. His hypnotic hazel gaze smoldered dangerously when it found Stella, who was incapable of looking away from him.

She had been sickened by what she saw and heard: Monk's murders, the sound of his body landing on the pavement, Bane's "parting gift"… But she couldn't deny her feelings.

There was nothing Bane could do for his dead men, but there was something he could do for the wife of a dead cop, for Stella and for any of Monk's future victims. Stella had nothing but admiration for Bane's judgment. There is good in him, she assured herself. And the reality thrilled her...

Bane eventually broke his stare with Stella, at which time she realized she hadn't taken a breath the entire time. She gasped loudly and began to tremble.

"S-Stella…" Abraham said, noticing her apparent distress. "It's over. I'll t-take you b-back to the off-off-office now."


	6. Chapter 6

"Your gaze is very direct, Miss Eyre. Do you think me handsome?"

\- Mr. Rochester, Jane Eyre

Chapter 6

 

"Not so fast, my dear. I have not dismissed you yet".

I was standing on a remote rooftop with Bane, wishing for the end of our meeting. And I couldn't help but feel anxious when he chastised me, because the masked man was in one of his difficult moods, and known to crush the windpipes of those who displeased him. Since our meeting concerned his approval of my work, I was afraid my head was next on the chopping block.

After I was captured, it didn't taken me long to realize that Bane fit the mold of the classic romantic hero. He was that character in Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice who was a force of nature: an amoral and cruel man in possession of power and leadership. Considering Bane's own tendency toward brooding, unfriendliness and wanderlust, his similarity to 'Mr. Rochester' or 'Mr. Darcy' was startling to say the least.

As I took to the streets to research stories for Bane's tabloid, I quickly learned that despite his crimes against Gotham, some locals, particularly women, refused to demonize him. These women were drawn to his prickly personality, hidden struggles, and secret past, placing him in even greater harmony with his literary counterparts.

Jessica, a 38-year old caterer shamelessly confessed, "I'd definitely leave my husband for him. I've been here every day hoping to catch a closer glimpse of that dreamy frown." Scarlett, a 20-year old tattooed and pierced cashier confided, "I don't care what he did. I so wanna get with him." And a 26-year old psychic medium named Edie smiled serenely when she assured me that she and Bane had been lovers in a previous life. "He doesn't remember me yet, but when he does, I'll be waiting."

Stella removed the flash drive from her laptop and returned it to the safety of her pocket. She wondered how Bane would feel about being objectified as a figure of sexual obsession. He'll love it. More fuel for that already inflated ego.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

She was about to ask Barsad to take her to Bane, when she heard voices in the stairwell, and she watched curiously as Barsad ushered a very beautiful woman into the office.

"That will be all, Barsad." The woman said dismissively, and Stella thought she detected a look of disapproval on the sharpshooter's face.

The woman was quick to cross the floor, and was all business as she immediately began to address Stella. "You must be the journalist who's been occupying all of Bane's time." She had a breathless, musical quality to her speech, and she was an exquisite beauty - from the tiny mole on her forehead to her exotic eyes, tumbling chestnut hair and minimalist makeup. She looked as though she'd just spent the day at a spa, except that she was dressed in a serviceable khaki outfit much like Stella's – albeit high-end khaki.

The woman gave every appearance of being in charge, and based on rumours she heard from Ahmed, Stella had little doubt as to her identity.

"Talia." she guessed. "You must be Talia."

"Yes!" Her soft, musical tone changed to one that was hard and flat as she inspected Stella from top to bottom. "Bane recruits only the prettiest girls. There's the insolent cat burglar, and the new doctor who's so fascinated with his medical history… But you, you are cute!"

Stella cringed, because in her experience "cute" was an insult offered by a jealous woman. Although she had just met Talia, she had no qualms about returning the fire.

"Pleased to meet you," the journalist smiled as she extended a hand to Talia. "I'm Stella, and I love my freckles too!" But though she tried to project a bold and confident attitude, Stella struggled with sudden self-consciousness in the wake of Talia's stunning beauty. She hadn't had access to any make-up since the day she'd been captured, and her wavy blonde hair was secured in a sensible ponytail to prevent Bane from touching it. She felt every inch of Talia's penetrating scrutiny.

Talia took Stella's hand reluctantly and unsmilingly, and glared at the tabloid layouts on Stella's desk. "I fear you are wasting my friend's precious time with this… this pamphlet." She said, coming straight to the point.

"It's not a pamphlet." Stella protested, trying to remain calm. "And it was his idea, I'll have you know. So if you have complaints, take them to him."

Talia's eyes narrowed and she smirked at Stella's directness. "Just watch yourself, Stella Browning. Don't get too comfortable here. I have plans for Bane and myself, and you are merely collateral damage. Never forget that." And with those words she swept out of the room as quickly as she had entered it, disappearing down the stairwell.

Bane's second in command returned to the room, alarm written all over his face. "Be wary of her, Stella" Barsad whispered quietly. "Don't make her angry. She's a very dangerous woman."

"I have no doubt of that now, Barsad. She just threatened me." Stella scowled as she assembled the tabloid's final proofs for Bane.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"You should be watching GCN this evening." Stella advised Bane, upon finding him in his spot on the roof. "The cameras caught your fight with Monk and they've been interviewing some of the spectators. Let's just say you're beginning to acquire more than a few fans."

"The man was a fool, commanding me to hand over the city when he had no real plan." He frowned, and held out his hand to accept the tabloid proofs from her, fingers twitching impatiently.

"Am I not worthy of your thanks, Stella?" he asked suddenly. "That rapist fool intended to have you."

"I know… and I appreciate what you did." Stella said, choosing her words carefully. "You avenged Monk's victims by crushing his penis. But, I'm no damsel in distress. I've been around, and I've gotten myself out of a few scrapes in my time. I told you I don't need a man to rescue me."

Bane took a few steps toward her, his mask wheezing ominously in the darkness. "I'm afraid you have one, whether or not you need him." He said darkly. "I fear you have withdrawn the admiration you showed me this afternoon."

Stella lowered her eyes, concealing a smile and mentally saving the moment to her flash drive. Was his cool arrogance and sexy bravado just a false front? Did the ego of this strong, intelligent and powerful man need to have the admiration of a woman? Bane was proving to be a fascinating subject for her story.

"Listen to me, Bane. I saw good in you during that fight." Stella answered truthfully. "And the crowd saw it too. I haven't withdrawn my admiration."

He gazed thoughtfully at the blonde journalist, and Stella could tell by his eyes that he was smiling beneath the mask. Her answer seemed to satisfy him, and he finally moved on to other business.

"Now, you have asked me to consider a reward for the St. Swithin's boys who distribute the tabloid. But you must understand, Stella, that Father Reilly will not likely accept a gift from a man like me."

"Well, I don't think he'd accept money from you." Stella answered cautiously. "But if you offered him something that couldn't be measured in dollars and cents, he might be receptive. For example, if the utilities at St. Swithin's were put into good working order, and if you provided the children with protection from Blackgate inmates…" he might find your gift acceptable."

"I believe you would make a fine diplomat, Stella." He remarked. "But I fear Father Reilly is certain to refuse me."

"How do you know he will?" Stella countered. "Ahmed tells me that Father Reilly lights a candle for you. It sounds to me like he's looking for some good in you, too."

Bane scoffed. "I am in no need of the man's superstitious nonsense." He said dismissively. "But your wishes will be granted, pending the good Father's approval. And this will be the last time, Stella. I meant it when I said there is to be no more charity." His mask wheezed erratically as he gently took hold of her chin with his rough hand. "There will be consequences, my dear, if you do this again."

"Understood." She said, feeling her cheeks grow hot. "We should talk about the proofs now." She reminded him, awkwardly changing the subject. "You need to approve them before they go to the printer tonight."

"Hold your tongue, woman, I am not done." Bane cautioned her irritably as he held up his hand, avoiding her gaze. "My men will also see to it that books are delivered to the orphanage." He finished gruffly.

Stella nodded, her heart warming to his suggestion. "Yes…" she agreed, feeling as though she had tapped into a tiny vein of compassion. "Yes, …adventure stories. Something to take their minds off the bomb." She encouraged him.

"And as for your proofs, they are all fine. You have my permission to print." He stated matter-of-factly as he handed the proofs back to her.

"But, are you sure? You barely looked at them!" Stella protested. "How do you know I didn't put my name on the masthead instead of "The People of Gotham."

Bane's eyes drilled into Stella's, as if to read her mind. "You thought about it, my dear Stella, but you couldn't go through with it." He said, responding in a lazy tone that caused her heart to palpitate.

She closed her eyes and sighed. How unfair that this attractive man in the Belstaff jacket should be a mercenary with whom no respectable woman should ever fall in love. Stella breathed, attempting to calm her chaotic feelings. I think it's time I told him about her.

"Bane, I…had a visit from a woman named Talia today. She accused me of monopolizing your time…"

Bane frowned, rousing himself from a brief fantasy, one where he rescued a grateful Stella from danger, and proved her theory wrong. He had hoped to keep the existence of Talia a secret from her, but he had not counted on Talia seeking her out…

"Pay her no mind." He said, inwardly furious at Talia. She had no business involving herself in his captive. Stella, and the work she did for him, were his domain, not hers. Bane felt renewed satisfaction in the fact that she would never again sleep with her Gotham lover Bruce Wayne, and that he had made sure of it.

"I will speak to her and see to it that she does not bother you again. And Stella, you are not to write about her." He ordered, pointing his forefinger at her.

"But she's great copy! I hear rumours that she's your girlfriend and your superior. Not to mention she's a spectacularly beautiful woman. She's like a movie star or a fairy princess." Stella enthused. "I could have put her on the cover of Gotham Woman."

Stella stopped talking suddenly, realizing she might have stumbled onto a hidden truth, because she was certain she'd seen Bane's body shudder ever so slightly. "And judging by your body language..." she continued, "I'd say she's the object of your unrequited love. Do you love her?"

In a flash, Bane angrily grabbed Stella by her forearms, and thrust her roughly against the rooftop wall.

"Oh!" Stella shouted, gripping his huge biceps in wide-eyed disbelief as Bane slammed himself against her body. "I… " She gasped, feeling her body respond warmly to his proximity.

"I am warning you once, and only once, Stella." Bane said in a low, threatening rasp, hands holding the sides of her head, as he forced her to look at him. "Your interest in Talia ends here. You will not pursue information about her, and you will not write about her."

"Let go of me!" Stella stammered, even though letting go was the last thing she wanted of him.

"I have no intentions of releasing you." Bane said shakily, his dark orbs filled with obvious intent. "You've angered me, and you must be punished."

"Bane, don't!" Stella squealed, suddenly terrified that he was going to force himself on her.

"Tell me, my dear damsel in distress…" he said darkly, oozing ruthless charm. "Just how do you plan to get yourself out of this scrape?"

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Stella was caught in a whirlwind over the next few days. And once again she was happy for the distraction of work that busied her during the daytime hours. Because at night she lay awake in the darkness, holding her pillow close as she attempted to recreate the feeling of Bane's warm, hard body against hers. Several sleepless hours passed, and eventually she crawled out of her bed to scold her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

"You idiot." She hissed, still clutching her pillow tightly. "If you wanted more, then why did you ask to be dismissed?"

Mrs. Feliz was released, as Bane promised, followed by the publication of the tabloid's first edition the next day. Stella had been so busy working that she hadn't really considered public reaction to the tabloid, if there was to be any at all. She didn't have to wait long to find out. Mrs. Feliz had been home for a whole day, and then decided that she needed to promote her story in the tabloid to the people of Gotham.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

GCN learned that John Daggett's housekeeper had been released by Bane, and when their cameras spotted her setting up in Gotham Square for an impromptu speech, it sent a reporter over to investigate.

"Come!" Barsad shouted as he dragged Stella unceremoniously from her desk to the flat screen television. "Mrs. Feliz is on the news, and she's got the tabloid!"

There she was. All four feet and eleven inches of Mrs. Lupe Feliz, standing tall in Gotham Square and waving the tabloid, waiting to address a crowd of curious spectators. As Lupe struggled with a hastily acquired microphone, Stella became aware of a warm, heady presence.

Him.

He had come to watch events unfold in Gotham Square, and he was standing directly behind her. Stella shut her eyes and began to relax to the steady wheeze of his mask, but in light of their last encounter, she couldn't bring herself to turn and look at him.

Lupe had just begun to address the crowd when she was interrupted by GCN.

"Mrs. Feliz! Mrs. Feliz! Can we talk to you, ma'm?" demanded the upright and uptight GCN correspondent, Jackie Kent. "Can you comment on the tragic death of John Daggett?"

Lupe stared blankly at the aggressive reporter. "What's tragic about it?" she asked bluntly.

"Well, Mr. Daggett was a prominent Gotham businessman who contributed much to the prosperity of this city, providing employment to hundreds of local citizens, including yourself. Why do you say his death isn't tragic?" The correspondent challenged.

Lupe glared at Kent in exasperation. "Why don't you read my story before you ask questions like that?" the housekeeper snarled as she turned to address the crowd again.

"Hello everyone! My name is Lupe Feliz!" she shouted, "And I don't have anything good to say about John Daggett. So you might as well leave if that's what you were expecting! I want you to know that I have Bane to thank for my freedom today! Yes, he's made a mess here, but he had to do it in order to rid Gotham of the likes of John Daggett!" she yelled as the assembled crowd began to cheer. "I know that's not what you want to tell your audience, Miss Kent." She continued, directing a hard stare at the reporter.

Lupe's face crumpled briefly as she pondered her lost years with the sleazy billionaire. "I'm an illegal… and Mr. Daggett knew it. He threatened to turn me in, and said my kids would be orphaned if I didn't do what he asked. He forced me to go to the Narrows to make his drug buys, because he didn't want any of those characters coming up to his penthouse."

"That may be true, ma'am." Kent interrupted impatiently. "But isn't it also true that a bomb is going to destroy this city in a few months because Bane killed the only man who could defuse it? You can hardly thank him for that!" the reporter countered obsessively.

Lupe frowned, refusing to be bullied.

"Mr. Daggett kept one floor of his building for the whores who serviced him. They were nasty, spoiled bitches, all of them, and it was my job to clean up after them. And Miss Kent, you'll remember the story of Mr. Daggett's oil pipeline – the one that ruptured in that small town and made the people sick. Well, he forced me to hand deliver the bribes to the politicians who made sure that pipeline got built…"

The assembled crowd groaned ominously, and there was a loud chorus of "boos".

"Mrs. Feliz." Kent said, continuing to badger the housekeeper. "You do understand that a bomb is going destroy this city, thanks to Bane? So who do you believe is the real villain here?"

"I know about the bomb!" snapped the annoyed housekeeper. "I'm not stupid, for God's sake! I don't know why I'm not worried about it. I just feel... that everything's gonna be okay. I'm going home to my kids now, but all I'm saying is that while Mr. Daggett was alive, I had no hope…" she said simply. "Now I have hope."

Barsad hi-fived Abraham and a stunned Stella. The three of them had worked so hard on the tabloid. "Hope!" he laughed manically. "Did you hear that, Stella? We did it!"

"One more question, ma'am! "Can you tell us who murdered John Daggett?"

"I don't know!" Lupe lied. "And I don't care." She knew very well that Bane had put an end to Daggett's slimy tyranny, but she wasn't about to reveal it to the obnoxious GCN reporter.

"Thank you for listening!" she shouted as she waved to the crowd and prepared to leave. "If you want to know just how slimy Daggett was, then here's my story! It's all in The Gotham Reckoning." She shouted as she waved her copy of the tabloid. "The St. Swithin's boys are passing copies around as I speak!"

Returning her attention to the anchors at GCN, Jackie Kent confidently noted, "Credit is given to 'The People of Gotham' for writing The Gotham Reckoning but given what we've observed about Bane so far, this is very likely his work. There's a subtle humour to this tabloid that's reminiscent of his behavior at Rogues Stadium and Blackgate. It just feels like it was written by him!"

Stella forced herself to turn around and face Bane. "Did you hear that?" she demanded. "They think you wrote it!" She threw up her hands in frustration, and flopped into a nearby chair.

Bane's eyes danced as he caught sight of Stella's brown eyes glaring angrily at him.

"Do they now?" he drawled cheerfully. "I'm extremely flattered."


	7. Chapter 7

"Strange to see how a good dinner and feasting reconciles everybody."

― Samuel Pepys, The Diary of Samuel Pepys

Chapter 7

The days surrounding the publication of the tabloid had almost been too hectic for Stella's liking. Now she was in the mood to brood, and her head did battle with everything from Talia's visit, to Bane's claim on the tabloid, to her rooftop escape from the masked man's clutches. One thing was for sure: she didn't want to spend another night eating her dinner alone.

Impulsively, she cleared the office worktable and dragged it to the windows, where there was a view of the city's burning trashcans. She then raided the tiny kitchen for dishware and place settings, and set a table for three. She found two broken, but usable candles, and set them into a pair of tarnished candlesticks she found in the storage closet. And much to her pleasant surprise, she also found a bottle of red wine.

When Abraham arrived with the food, she made her pitch.

"I have a great idea!" she announced as Abraham set takeout containers from Bane's kitchens on Stella's desk.

"Barsad!" She called, taking Abraham's hand. "There's no reason why you two should eat in the stairwell, and there's no reason why I should eat at my desk. And there's certainly no reason why we should all be eating out of take-out containers. So, why don't the three of us have dinner together at a proper table, and how about we do a post-mortem on the first edition of the tabloid?" she suggested cheerfully.

Barsad blanched. "Oh no, Stella... I don't think so."

"B-Bane wouldn't like it." Abraham said, though he was clearly tempted by Stella's offer.

"Boys, I really need your help! This would strictly be a working dinner." she promised. "I have some ideas about The Court Jester that I want to bounce off you. I also want to talk about any conflicts or concerns raised by the St. Swithin's boys. And, should we increase the print run? Besides, I'm so tired of eating alone with no one but the tv to keep me company…"

"...I suppose that sounds reasonable." Barsad agreed reluctantly, nodding at Abraham, "but remember Stella, we're here to work and we won't stay long…"

The working dinner didn't exactly unfold as Stella planned, because the topic of conversation wasn't the tabloid. Almost by instinct, she found herself interviewing Barsad and Abraham for her Gotham story instead. Sitting with her right elbow firmly planted on the dinner table, chin resting in the palm of her hand, she eased forward to peer into Barsad's blue eyes, and whispered "Tell me about yourself".

Barsad was cautious of her approach, because he had grown very fond of her and he knew how easy it might be to give in to her

"There's not much to tell, you know." He said reluctantly. "I was a SWAT team commander in West Virginia. And then I wasn't." He paused for a moment and then continued. "One day on the job, I missed, and someone died. I was placed on indefinite suspension." There was another pause before he added, "And my wife left me…"

Stella frowned and squeezed his hand. She'd always found it difficult consoling people who had endured hard times. "That must have been awful for you…"

He nodded slowly. "It was, but eventually I found salvation in of all things - a motorcycle club. There wasn't a public or a newspaper to judge me, nor a department that needed a scapegoat. There were people who understood, and it was there that I eventually encountered men who would lead me to Bane."

Barsad sighed and dropped his head to stare at the untouched quinoa and black bean salad on his plate. "Yeah, I took it all pretty hard. But you know, I've never missed a shot since…" he said, his voice trailing away.

Then he smiled slyly at Stella. "Did you bring this wine specifically to loosen our tongues?"

"Absolutely not!" Stella said as she stood up and patted all her khaki pockets. "See? I don't have my digital recorder tonight. I just wanted to have dinner with the both of you. Alright, you both know I'm writing a piece about my time in Gotham, but I really just want to know you both. You're in my story, but don't worry – you're not getting the 'Judge Crane' treatment."

"Tell Stella how you got to be B-Bane's right hand!" Abraham insisted as he served himself a third helping of honey mustard chicken.

Barsad swallowed the remainder of his wine and poured himself another glass.

"Bane is the type of leader who needs to take his place among his men during even the most dangerous of operations. I won't get into the how and why, but on this occasion, we were in West Africa, and he had volunteered himself for a scouting job, taking Pablo and I with him. Once we penetrated enemy territory and established a post, we sent Pablo back to signal the rest of our army. Meanwhile, Bane and I huddled in a cave, waiting for our men, until we realized there was a traitor in our midst. Shortly after administering a dose of his medicine, Bane became violently ill and soon he couldn't keep anything down, because someone had tampered with his inhalant. As it happened, I had a good stash of mor-… er…something to keep him settled, but he couldn't travel in his condition and I refused to leave him to the enemy. I had enough ammunition, so for two days I held them at bay, picking off every man who approached the cave until a caravan of our men arrived. Bane recovered, but if I had not removed his mask as soon as I smelled the poison, he'd be a dead man now."

Stella's brown eyes had grown wide and serious during Barsad's monologue. She noticed how he avoided mentioning the names of the medicines Bane used. She wasn't going to ask for the details now, remembering the day Barsad threatened her when she'd asked about the mask. She knew she'd eventually learn the truth... so she let the subject slide for the time being.

"What a story, Barsad!" she breathed. "Did you find out who the traitor was?"

"It was Pablo!" Barsad laughed. "He was a trusted man, but he'd been bribed by the enemy, and he looked terrified when he saw Bane alive and well! Bane had every right to snap that bastard's neck for submitting him to such indignity, but he was very gracious. You know what he said?"

"Tell me!" Stella demanded excitedly, jumping in her seat. The wine had affected her as well.

Trying his best to mimic Bane's voice, Barsad said. 'You might have easily shot me and assumed my position within our ranks. Instead, you defended our beachhead while seeing to my care. I am indebted to you, brother'. "And do you know what he said after that?"

"What?!" Stella squealed. The evening was proving to be a goldmine of information for her story, and she couldn't have been happier. Asking the mercenaries to dinner was the right call...

Barsad continued his very poor imitation of Bane. 'Since you were most inconvenienced by the traitor, brother, I appoint you executioner!'

"How did you… execute Pablo?" Stella asked warily, shocked by Barsad's enthusiasm for cold-blooded execution.

"Do you know the story of 'The Most Dangerous Game', the one where the big-game hunter is himself hunted like an animal?" the sharpshooter asked.

Stella gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "You didn't!"

"I did." Barsad replied lazily. "I gave Pablo a two-hour lead into the brush at sunset, and then I went after him. I picked him off just before dawn. I tell you, it was the experience of a lifetime, and I have Bane to thank for it!"

Stella remembered how much she'd liked Barsad instantly upon meeting him, and because he'd been so helpful to her on the tabloid, she'd chosen to ignore the reality that he was as much a killer as Bane. After hearing his story, she couldn't ignore the truth any longer, but for some reason, it didn't bother her much. Deep down, it was obvious that Barsad was still a human being.

"Your turn, Abraham!" Stella said, switching to her other guest. She had noticed that under the influence of the wine, he wasn't as shy, and stuttered less.

"Oh, man, I grew up in the Detroit projects. If I hadn't gotten a football scholarship…I would have been nowhere. In c-college I was drafted by the NFL and spent two seasons with the B-Buffalo Bills." he stammered. "I was a utility p-player, which meant the coach sent me in towards the end of the g-game when a win was guaranteed. But mostly I sat on the bench, and I was disappointed b-because he never gave me the o-opportunity to be a hero. Then I got cut. After that, I spent all of m-my time at the gym, training to be a pro boxer. Some of the g-guys there connected me with recruiters from this army."

"So, why did you choose Bane instead of pro boxing?" Stella asked.

"I realized boxing would be the same thing as football, me waiting for my chance." Abraham said. "The people who recruited me thought my football and boxing skills, and my overall d-disappointment with the w-world made me a perfect candidate for Bane's army. The money was good, so I accepted the offer, and told my g-girlfriend and baby daughter they were b-better off without me."

Stella was truly shocked that he had abandoned his family, but didn't question him further on the subject. Instead, she said, "Tell me about the day Bane blew up Rogue Stadium. How did it feel being back on a football field?"

Abraham thought for several seconds, and then answered, "I thought it would hurt, being back on a f-football field, but when I saw myself on the j-jumbotron, backing up B-Bane, I realized I was finally one of the most valuable p-players on the team! So, n-no regrets…

Next morning, Stella's office was abuzz with visitors. Bane, Ahmed and Dr. Natasha Van Dyne all arrived for business with either Barsad or Stella.

"Natasha! Hi! What brings you here?" Stella called.

"House calls. Can I see you in your room, please?" she replied.

Inside Stella's tiny room, Natasha was all business. "Did you think seriously about what we discussed the other day?" she asked.

"About birth control? No, Natasha, I'm not going to sleep with Bane. And I'm not going to sleep with any man here, so I don't need it." Stella said dismissively.

Natasha smirked. "Alright, so let's say you're not going to have sex with Bane, but the fact remains you are surrounded by hungry mercenaries, and citizens who are running wild. My colleagues at Gotham General are seeing a disturbing increase in sexual assaults since Bane took over the city. Now, I've already had a long talk with our fearless leader on this subject. In the meantime, do you really want to be violated, and then face the added trauma of pregnancy? We're running low on the morning-after pill, and there may not be any left if and when you need one."

Stella looked to the floor and frowned. In the short time she'd known Natasha, she'd realized that the emergency ward doctor could be very persuasive. Of the men Stella had close contact with so far – Bane, Barsad and Abraham – only Bane seemed like a sexual threat to her. But Natasha had a point about the behaviour of mercenaries and citizens.

"No…" Stella swallowed hard. She was squeamish, and conversations about birth control and the morning-after pill always made her nauseous. "I don't want any of that to happen."

"Then I recommend the injection." Natasha said as she opened her physician's bag. "You'll need another one in three months, so mark your calendar."

"Hey, Boss!" Natasha called to Bane as she descended the stairs from Stella's room. "I need to speak to you again!"

Bane looked up from his conversation with Barsad and frowned at the doctor's brashness. Nevertheless, he gave her his full attention. "What can I do for you now, Dr. Van Dyne?" he asked curiously.

"I was asked by an OB/GYN at Gotham General to look in on a pregnant patient downtown. The woman is due in a week, and we would like her to give birth in the hospital if you don't mind!" she stated boldly.

Bane looked confused. "Of course, my dear doctor!" he said "Transport her to Gotham General if you please."

"I can't!" Natasha countered. "She lives in an area blockaded by your guys. I had to climb ten feet of sandbags to get to her, and because of her condition there's no way I can ask her to do the same. We don't want her giving birth in a house without heat."

Bane sighed and looked skyward. There was so much responsibility involved in the taking of a city, and no way of avoiding the problems of its citizens. Mrs. Feliz, Monk, the St. Swithin's boys, sexual assaults, and now this expectant mother. "I will have my men clear a path and escort her to the hospital immediately." he promised.

"Come with me, my dear." Bane ordered, roughly taking Stella's arm and pulling her out on to the fire escape. "Now that we are out of earshot of Dr. Van Dyne, may I take you into my confidence?"

"What about?" Stella asked, leaning over the railing of the fire escape and refusing to look at him. In such a small space, she had no choice but to press up against him. He was wearing the tight black shirt he'd worn when she'd first met him, and now she caught the irresistible scent of leather and gunpowder.

No. No. No. You do not want this man. You can't possibly want him. He's a mercenary and a killer, so stop fantasizing about him. Stop it right now, Stella.

"Dr. Van Dyne gave me a very serious tongue-lashing this morning." Bane admitted quietly. "In short, I am to blame for the increase in sexual assaults in Gotham, because I told the people to do as they please."

"I think she has a point." Stella said haughtily, still refusing to meet his eyes.

"I agree there is truth in her words, and because I am genuinely concerned for her own safety on the streets of Gotham, I've made a decision regarding her personal protection."

Bane issued a frustrated wheeze, grabbing Stella by her chin. "Turn around and look at me!" he sighed in exasperation. "I will not harm you, Stella."

"Alright." she conceded in a small voice, forcing herself to look into his dark hazel eyes. "So, what is your decision?"

Bane paused for a moment. "I have chosen a man for Dr. Van Dyne." he said in a tone that left no place for ambiguity.

"You mean, a boyfriend? How dare you? You can't be serious!" she whispered frantically as she glanced behind her to ensure Natasha was nowhere within hearing distance.

"I can and I am." Bane said determinedly. "I despise rape, but I cannot be assured that all my men feel the same way. She is an attractive, single woman who is surrounded by mercenaries, and citizens who might defile her. We must take good care of our Dr. Van Dyne."

"I agree there's reason for concern, but maybe, just maybe she can look after herself. And I know for a fact that she doesn't want to be married any more than I do!" Stella hissed angrily.

"I said nothing about marriage, Stella!" Bane reasoned in a sing-song voice. "Dr. Van Dyne merely needs a lover to keep the wolves at bay. And I found the perfect candidate in one of my best engineers. He is a 29 year-old graduate of Harvard; mother a former beauty queen from Dubai, father a stockbroker from New York."

Stella pulled back and examined Bane in sheer disbelief. There was neither a hint of amusement in his eyes, nor of mockery in his voice. "I can see you're very serious about this, but doesn't this man have an elitist pedigree for being one of yours?" she asked.

"He is a good boy who renounced his parents' wealth to follow me. I chose him because I assume Dr. Van Dyne would want a lover as highly educated as she. I am told he caught sight of her the day we brought her to the Daggett building, and was instantly smitten. I have only to send him to her on a routine medical matter. He is a man – he will know what to do from there…"

"Why don't you just give her a bodyguard? Why does he have to be her lover?" Stella demanded.

"Because... I suppose I am a romantic at heart." Bane said, gesturing floridly.

"You and your archaic ideas!" the disgusted journalist exclaimed. "Don't you ever try that with me, because I'm on to you!" she said, angrily following him back into the office.

"Your time will come, my dear." He assured her as he pushed open the stairwell door and began his descent.

A furious Stella continued to follow him through the stairwell door. "I would think you'd have more important things to do in Gotham besides matchmaking!" She lectured. "How am I supposed to look Natasha in the eye knowing what I know? You make me so mad I could spit nails!"

Bane turned around to face Stella and slowly returned to the top of the stairs. "I did not ask to have women in my ranks, Miss Browning." He answered calmly. "Nevertheless I do have them, and thus their safety is my responsibility!"

Stella gripped her steno pad firmly in two hands, and furiously swung to the right, striking Bane viciously across his mask. In the next moment, Bane's eyes reflected alarm, confusion and fear as he slid down the stairwell wall and rolled over and over to the foot of the stairs. A shocked Stella witnessed his fall as if in slow motion. There was a hissing sound she couldn't identify, and she finally came to her senses as Bane struggled helplessly on his back at the foot of the landing.

"What did I do, what did I do?" she shrieked as she tore down the stairs to straddle his body, her panicked cries echoing throughout the stairwell. Bane gripped Stella's hands weakly, pulling her fingers toward his mask as the situation became clearer to her. The force of her hard-backed steno pad had dislodged three tubes on the mask, depriving him of his medicine. "Tell me how to help you!" She urged gently, squeezing his trembling hands. "This way?" She asked softly as she cautiously inserted the largest tube back into its casing.

"Push it as far into the fitting as possible." Barsad called from the top of the stairs. "Then twist it to the left until you hear a 'click'." Accompanied by Natasha, he advanced down the stairs in two quick steps, kneeling next to Bane to demonstrate how to properly re-connect the tubes.

"Get off him Stella. I'll check his vitals." Natasha said, stethoscope in hand.

Stella rolled away from Bane, her eyes never leaving his face, as his eyelashes fluttered and then stilled.

"He's dead…" she whispered fearfully, and two fat tears coursed down her cheeks as Natasha listened to his pulse.

"No, he's not dead!" Barsad replied irritably. "He's just gone down for a little nap. How did this happen, Stella?"

With Bane incapacitated, Stella realized Barsad was in charge and she submitted herself to his authority.

"We were having an argument. … I was having an argument and I lost my temper and hit him with this!" she said, showing him the steno pad. "I hit him really hard!" She confessed tearfully, wiping her face with her sleeve. "And I take full responsibility."

Barsad sighed and nodded. "And what were you arguing about?"

With Natasha kneeling next to Barsad, she couldn't tell him the real reason for swatting Bane. But, she had another option.

"I - I was angry because he wouldn't allow me to put my name on the tabloid, yet he's happy for the media to think he wrote it." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the real reason she hit him either. She glanced briefly at Natasha, who was busy listening to Bane's heart.

"Is he getting enough medicine?" she sniffed.

Barsad and Natasha looked at one another uneasily, and Barsad nodded.

"Since you've stumbled on to the mechanics of the mask, I suppose I should be honest with you." he said, affecting his now-familiar shrug. "This mask delivers an analgesic inhalant to treat his chronic pain."

"He needs a mask for pain relief?" Stella sniffed again. "Why can't he just swallow some pills?

"Nothing like that helps." Barsad answered curtly. "Bane was raised in prison, Stella… attacked by other prisoners after he helped a child inmate escape. The attack nearly killed him, but the prison doctor butchered him even more. He lived in constant, immobilizing pain until a powerful man freed him, providing him with medical care and physical training.

By now Stella's tears had dried and she stared intently at Barsad, taking in his every word as he described Bane's life in a mask.

"…and this is how he must live. It seems nothing further can be done for him." he finished.

"He can't even kiss because of that thing." Natasha said matter-of-factly."

Barsad frowned at her inappropriate remark, and Natasha quickly apologized. "Sorry." She said.

Stella stared from Barsad to Natasha and back to Barsad again.

"Why can't you do anything for him?" she asked disapprovingly. "That's ridiculous. He's in severe pain, and his quality of life sucks because of this mask. There has to be an answer!"

"Tell me about it, Stella!" Natasha agreed. "I think it's ridiculous too, and I'm the doctor! I will say that Bane and I have been experimenting with his dosage, scaling it back. I suspect that's why it's taking him a bit longer to recover here. Beyond that I can't discuss his case."

Stella's gaze returned to Bane, and to her relief his eyes had opened, and his lashes fluttered.

"Welcome back, brother." Barsad said, patting Bane on the shoulder.

Bane weakly raised his hand, immediately pointing his forefinger at Stella and croaking, "I should kill you, but I require your ser-".

"I'm sorry I hurt you!" The words spilled out of her, interrupting the fallen mercenary as she grabbed his finger, forced open his hand and entwined her own fingers with his. "Will you forgive me?"

"Forgive?" Bane asked, his voice becoming stronger. "I'm afraid 'forgive' is not a word in my lexicon."

"Oh..." she squeaked as a fresh tear rolled down her cheek, dropping heavily on to Bane's black shirt before soaking through to his chest. "...please!"


	8. Chapter 8

History is Made at Night

 

Chapter 8

Stella spent much of the day at her desk in a quiet state of anxiety. She was trying to write the next Court Jester column but found it difficult to concentrate because she assumed she was going to be punished for what she'd done to Bane. Not only had she struck him, but she'd also uncovered his weakness, disabling him in the process. Hell, he would probably kill her just for making him angry.

If only she'd known the real reason for the mask, she would never have hit him. But even then, she should have understood the mask was somehow vital to his well-being, and kept her hands to herself.

She'd been furious about Bane's plans to initiate a romantic interest for Natasha, and she hit him in retaliation. But she instantly regretted her actions, and made the situation worse by practically begging for his forgiveness. Now she was thoroughly ashamed and embarrassed.

His damning words repeated over and over in her head like a news crawl. I'm afraid 'forgive' is not a word in my lexicon. Raising himself from the landing of the stairwell, he had menacingly stared down the woman kneeling beneath him. "I will handle you later." He'd rasped in a low tone.

What had he meant by the word 'handle'? Did he mean he was going to crush her windpipe or twist her neck? Maybe he'd hand her over to Crane? Or was he going to rape her?

Her words and actions couldn't have been more genuine when she knelt to help him, but the more she replayed the scene in her mind, the more she began to doubt her own sincerity. She now saw the situation as an attempt to win his forgiveness with tears, touch and soft words. Hadn't she used similar methods to get Barsad and Abraham to open up to her the evening before?

She'd always prided herself on never using overly persuasive or seductive means to get what she wanted from men, especially in the workplace. But no more…

You're a real Mata Hari, Stella. What in the hell is happening to you, anyway?

She wondered if hers would be the only female body swinging from a tether in Gotham Square.

Abraham looked on sympathetically as he observed the inner turmoil reflected on her face. He was certain Bane wouldn't kill her, but watching her agonize about it made him uneasy.

"Read m-me what you've w-written so far." He suggested, hoping to encourage her to think about something else.

"I haven't written a word today, Abraham. My mind isn't exactly on my work." She answered as she stared out the window. She was pale as a ghost, and hadn't eaten at all that day.

"Then I have an idea for The C-Court Jester." He said, hoping he wasn't overstepping his bounds. "Hey Stella, what if Crane comes up against a guy who t-talks l-like m-me…?"

Eventually Barsad returned, bounding up the stairwell into the office. "Pack your things. We're leaving here. Abraham, let's roll!" he ordered.

Turning to address the blonde journalist, he said "Get moving, Stella. What are you waiting for? A firing squad?"

"Well…yes." She blinked, utterly shocked by the bluntness of his words. "As a matter of fact, I was."

"If he was going to kill you, he would have done it in the stairwell this morning." Barsad shrugged. "We're going to the Daggett building, so you have 10 minutes to pack. Please don't ask me any questions, Stella, because it's been a tough day."

Stella rushed to the storage closet. She really had no "things" other than what she'd worn to the office on that first day, and the khaki clothing Barsad had given her. Shoving the few items into a shopping bag, she affected a 360-degree turn around the office. As long as she'd been allowed to work from the office she'd called home for about a year, she believed she still had some hold on her old life. But that was all about to come to an end, and the future seemed like a big black hole.

"Goodbye, my brilliant career." She frowned, and followed Barsad down the stairwell as Abraham brought up the rear.

"Where's your Louis Vuitton bag?" Barsad called, not wanting a reason to have to return.

"I haven't seen it since the day he took it." she replied. "He has my passport, keys, everything."

Barsad ushered her outside and on to the streets of Gotham, and they walked a few blocks to reach the tumbler. Stella held on tightly during the trip to the Daggett building, memorizing the inside of the tumbler so she could describe it accurately in her story. Abraham had taken another vehicle.

After arriving at the Daggett building, they rode the elevator to the penthouse level, and the door slid open to a mid-size lobby.

Barsad led her through the lobby and double doors which opened into a large room with high ceilings, and two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows that met in the corner of the room. The marks and shadows on the walls and floors indicated that furniture and decor had been removed, but there still remained a baby grand piano sitting on a raised platform. There was no sound save for the echo of their boots on the hardwood floor.

"Go on up, Stella." Barsad said as he gently pushed her toward the staircase. Your quarters are upstairs. Abraham is already setting up your office. And I'll be at City Hall for the rest of the day."

Stella wandered through the empty space and began to climb the stairs, which afforded a spectacular view of Gotham City through the windows from 60 stories up. At one point she became dizzy, and she felt the step fall away from her feet, as if she were about to fall through the windows. "Oh!" she gasped as she shut her eyes, tightly gripping the railing.

"It's alright." Barsad's voice assured her. He had quietly remained, having anticipated her unease. "It's only an optical illusion, Stella. Deep breaths, and don't look down. You'll get used to it."

"Thank you, Barsad!" Stella shouted gratefully, palms and feet sweating as she reached the top of the stairs.

At the top, she literally found a home within a home. There were three bedrooms with ensuites, an office, sitting room, dining room, laundry facilities and a small kitchen. What was she going to do with all this space, when so many of Gotham's citizens were being made homeless?

Annoyed, she inspected the bedrooms carefully, choosing the smallest one next to the office for herself.

After settling in to her new office, and finally eating a meal, she and Abraham continued work on the tabloid.

"Abraham…" Stella warned him before she allowed him to read it. "I know you suggested a guy with a speech impediment, but if you're not okay with what I've written, just tell me, and I'll write something else, okay?"

__________________________________

The Court Jester

This week, the tables turned on Judge Jonathan Crane when he became the persistent object of the mob's ridicule. The Reckoning has your front row seat, with highlights of the most memorable moments from the courtroom…

Senior citizen Margaret Netherby-Ford earned the loud approval of the mob when she likened the judge to her grandson. "You look just like my little Jared up there, screaming in his high chair." Crane was then heckled mercilessly after model Fantine Delilah Price propositioned him, then followed with the suggestion that maybe he '"didn't like girls" when she noticed his terrified expression. Crane began to fall apart in earnest when Joshua Wright, a pro football player with a severe speech impediment pleaded for leniency. "P-p-please J-J-Judge? H-e-e-elp m-me. A-A-A-Ask B-B-Bane, p-p-please?"

Crane frowned, eyes rolling into the back of his head as his body began to twitch uncontrollably. The mob smelled blood, roaring at the spectacle as the unstable judge acquired Wright's fractured speech and became delirious. "B-B-Bane au-authority! Ex-Exile! I'm Dr. J-Jonathan C-C-Crane… Would y-y-you l-like to see my m-mask?"

Court was suspended for the day and Crane was removed to allow for his recovery. Next week: Revenge of the Judge…

__________________________________

Abraham nodded, secretly thrilled that Stella had used his idea. "I l-like it..." he said. If a guy l-like me can f-freak out a nut like C-Crane, then I've done my j-job... " he said as he rose from his chair and returned to his normal position near the door.

At City Hall, Bane and Barsad watched with approval as two fresh bodies were hung in Gotham Square. A new rule was being enforced - one that was sure to confuse Gotham even more.

"You know, maybe you should give another speech, Bane." Barsad suggested. "At least warn them that this is going to start happening."

Bane was thoughtful for a moment. "No, Barsad. Stella correctly observed that I have become somewhat of a celebrity in this city." He rumbled. "And that cannot be. I have a mission here that demands focus, not fame."

Barsad nodded his approval, and then grinned. "But you enjoyed the fame while it lasted..."

Bane's eyes twinkled at his friend's observation, but he didn't reply. Instead he asked, "Did you deliver her to the townhouse, brother?"

"Safe and sound." Barsad confirmed. "Abraham is with her." Then he grinned again, stealing another glance at Bane.

"You have something to say, Barsad." Bane stated flatly, clearly annoyed. "Say it."

Barsad smirked. "Now that you have her under your own roof, brother, a word of advice. Stella is what we call 'high maintenance'. She rises at 7:15 a.m. Not 7:00 a.m. or 7:30 a.m., but exactly at 7:15 a.m. She must have cold, filtered water served in a glass jug with two slices of lemon, refreshed twice a day. And she must not be disturbed during her 'quiet time', between the hours of 8:00 p.m. and 10:00 p.m., when she works on her story."

"I am not going to act as her personal valet, brother." Bane wheezed, astonished by Barsad's suggestion. "Stella will rise when I say, and will receive no special treatment. We do not cater to prisoners."

"But she no longer considers herself a prisoner, Bane." Barsad reasoned. "She understands her role in working for you, but claims she is also here because she wants to be, to write the story that she plans to have published in Vanity Fair."

"If you and Abraham are indulging her female whims then you are mistaken." Bane fumed quietly. "She will not find me as accommodating."

"But you are going to hear about the lemons and the quiet time, and much more, Bane. I guarantee it." Barsad grinned again, patting his friend on the shoulder for the second time that day. "And one more thing, brother." he added, still smiling. "Don't underestimate her. She's a charmer when she wants to be. Once she gets to know you, she has ways of looking into your eyes and uncovering all your secrets."

"Thank you, Barsad." Bane said, irritated by, and jealous of, what his lieutenant knew. "But I am well aware of Stella's…gifts." Hadn't he experienced one earlier in the day, when her single tear felt like cupid's arrow?

"One more thing Barsad?" Bane asked as his lieutenant turned to leave.

"Yes, brother?"

"At what hour does she retire each night?"

Stella frowned, looked around the room that was her new office, and wondered if she'd ever feel comfortable. The converted schoolhouse had been like home to her. It was a place where generations of Gotham had prepared for life. This townhouse, though built in the modernist style that Stella loved, was stripped of adornments, and there was a persistent echo that made her feel incredibly lonely. One thing she was happy about was finally having a decent bed for sleeping, and she had to admit to herself that she looked forward to crawling into it.

She was certain she heard someone come in downstairs, and assumed it was Abraham returning with dinner. But when he did not come up the stairs immediately, goose bumps rose all over her body and she wandered reluctantly down the hallway, stopping at the top of the stairs to look down.

Bane stood at the foot of the stairs, eyes fixed on Stella, hands hanging from the lapels of his Belstaff jacket.

"How long have you been standing there?" Stella asked cautiously.

Bane remained silent. Only the inconsistent wheeze of his mask hovered between them, and she was sure he was getting a good look at her, bra-less and barefooted in a tee shirt and combat pants.

Stella took a few steps down, clutching the railing tightly. "Did – Did I hurt you this morning?" she asked concernedly.

Again, Bane did not answer.

"I want to say how sorry I am, but it occurs to me that 'sorry' isn't a word in your lexicon either, is it?" she asked, hoping to break the ice between them.

Bane extended his hand upwards to her as his fingers twitched impatiently. "Come here." He rumbled irritably.

Stella's stomach dropped, and she reluctantly descended to the penultimate step.

"All the way down…" Bane insisted coldly, pointing to the floor with his forefinger. "Feet on the floor."

She did what she was told, and found herself staring up at him with nervous brown eyes.

"I have voided your guilt in this morning's assault..." he began.

Stella uttered a gasp of relief. "Thank you." she whispered, genuinely grateful.

"I have voided your guilt because after I left you, I learned of your role in a far more serious matter.

"And what have I done now?" Frustrated, Stella ran her hand through her untidy blonde hair.

"I returned here this morning to a minor insurrection, because word had spread that men guarding the rooftops surrounding your former office had witnessed a dinner party between you and two of my most trusted men." Bane explained.

"Oh shit…" Stella blushed. "My day for mistakes. Bane, it wasn't a dinner party!" She protested fearfully. "I don't like to eat alone, so I asked them to have a working dinner with me. We talked a bit about The Court Jester, and then I asked them about their backgrounds. They didn't talk to me about your mission and I didn't ask them. I know not to do that because I don't want to get them killed."

"Nevertheless, the men – especially the men who witnessed the three of you through the windows – are clamoring for equal time." Bane said, hovering ominously over her. "Some have not enjoyed the company of a woman in many months."

A writers' instinct suddenly overtook Stella, one that would not allow her to miss an opportunity. Forget about fear or being intrusive. Just ask him straight out, because your story will thank you for it, girl.

"And how long has it been for you?" she interrupted him.

Bane grabbed hold of Stella's wrist seemingly at the speed of light, squeezing it so tightly that she feared it would break.

"You were no longer safe in the schoolhouse. You are here so I can better protect you from those men. I would hope that you appreciate my efforts on your behalf." He said menacingly.

Here was another situation where he needed her praise and admiration, and so she decided to give in to him just once. "Well, thank you again for protecting me, Bane. I'm very grateful. Heaven knows, I certainly don't deserve your protection considering the dinner party was all my fault." she said, her brown eyes wide and serious. It was on the tip of her tongue to tactfully remind him that she could take care of herself, but she could tell by his mood that it probably wasn't a good idea.

For a moment it seemed like Bane was lost in thought, but then he began to speak again.

"You have been like a butterfly to me," He observed darkly. "very difficult to catch...until now."

The gleeful tone in his voice and his smoldering gaze promised Stella the thrill of the unknown. She stared into his pulsating hazel eyes, and realized she wasn't quite ready for what she saw there.

Her colour rose sharply and the tension in her voice was obvious as she asked, "Can I go back upstairs now?"

Bane's brow quivered uncontrollably. He still had her by the wrist, and was fighting an urge to drag her down the hallway to his cot and...

"Yes. You may return to your quarters." He said as her released her.

"Good night, then." Stella said as she ascended the stairs, feeling his gaze more than ever before. She gripped the railing firmly, and kept her eyes far forward, hoping she would not have another dizzy spell. When she reached the safety of the top of the stairs, she turned around to look at him.

"We're living together." She observed. It was more a statement than a question.

"In a manner of speaking, yes." Bane answered. "You have the upper floor, and I have the main floor. Activity usually begins at 5:30 a.m., but the knock on your door will wait until 6:00 a.m.

Later that evening, Stella locked the doors to the office and her room, and after showering in a luxurious bathroom, she slid into the large comfortable bed. It had been a long, eventful day, but she still couldn't sleep. She opened the room's blinds so that she could see the night sky, but that didn't help. She kept imagining she could hear someone climbing the stairs, and she sat up in bed several times, expecting to see shadows beneath the bedroom door. Was someone outside the door, trying to break in? Or was it all in her head? She rose from the bed, and checked the locks several times more.

Climbing back into bed, Stella shut her eyes once more as logic began to prevail in her busy mind. Stella, it doesn't matter how many times you check the door. If he wants in, he's going to get in. You saw that look in his eyes... She shrieked, and bolted upright after she had a vision of Bane breaking down the door to get to her.

The door was lit by the moonlight and Stella could clearly see that no one had crashed through it, and that no one was waiting outside. Suddenly she was seized with an uncontrollable attack of the giggles, and she laughed herself silly until finally drifting off to sleep.

Bane was seated on his cot in the space he had chosen for himself after having taken over the Daggett building. It was just right for him – a former walk-in closet complete with halogen lighting, big enough to hold a cot and a small desk. Maps, charts and diagrams were tacked haphazardly on the walls. There was also a blackboard leaning against one wall with several calculations in progress, and stacks of books in the corners. The only colour in the room came in the form of an exotic, hand-stitched blanket folded neatly on the cot.

There was a map on his lap, but he paid it no attention. His mind was on the woman he had just installed upstairs, and he was staring at the ceiling, listening to her faint laughter.

He must have been mad to bring her here! What if Talia were to see her? And he was fooling himself when he claimed Stella was here for reasons of her safety. Make no mistake, it was jealousy that prompted him to bring her here. It was one thing to envy the easy relationship she enjoyed with Barsad and Abraham, but random, filthy men slobbering all over her like a pack of hungry wolves virtually made his blood boil. He simply would not tolerate it.

He'd found her. He'd nurtured her talents. She was his secret weapon. She was his.

He'd felt her touch, savoured the feel of her hand on his arm, and the warmth of her body as he thrust himself against her. Since meeting Stella he'd lost control of his appetites, and the very mention of her name was an occasion for his manhood to spring to life. And there was the persistent throb in his chest that he'd felt ever since she cried over top of him that morning...

Bane smiled beneath his mask as he remembered that Stella had admitted to never having had a fulfilling sexual experience.

From now on, the only wolf in this doe's life would be him.

In downtown Gotham, GCN reporter Jackie Kent was approached by a red haired, freckled man.

"Ms. Kent, my name is Larry Crowe." He said, introducing himself as he extended his business card. "I'm a freelance photographer working on a photo essay of Bane's uprising, and I have some information that your network may find very interesting."

Jackie Kent was taking a well-earned cigarette break behind GCN's mobile truck, and rolled her eyes at the interruption. "Oh, sure you do." she scoffed rudely as she blew cigarette smoke into his face. "Do you realize how many times a day people tell me that?"

"Yea, well…" muttered the photographer who was now seriously offended. "It's just that I saw someone I once worked with, walking the streets with one of Bane's guys."

"And how is that significant, Mr—? What did you say your name was? Crowe?" She asked as she read from his card.

"Because she was reported missing by her co-workers. Her name is posted on a list down near city hall. But I actually saw her this afternoon walking with Bane's main guy, and they were having what looked to be a friendly conversation. It didn't look like she was his prisoner or anything like that."

"And which 'main guy' would that be?" Jackie asked, taking another drag on her cigarette.

That would be the short dude you always see standing next to Bane – dark hair with a beard, red scarf and a lot of artillery on his chest. Check out your Rogues Stadium footage. You'll know him when you see him.

"Have you contacted the police, yet?" Jackie asked, blowing a smoke ring.

"Where have you been, Ms. Kent?" Crowe asked patronizingly. "The police are trapped underground. They couldn't get involved even if they wanted to! And I can't get through to the FBI because we're cut off here."

Jackie's interest intensified. "So tell me exactly how you know this woman."

"I did some freelance work with her about 10 months ago —" he began.

"Give her a name, Larry." Jackie commanded.

"Stella Browning. We shot a fashion layout for Gotham Woman down in the sewers, and—"

"Did you say 'the sewers', Larry?" Jackie interrupted, linking her arm in his and tossing her cigarette to the ground. "So if we looked at some digital video, you'd be able to identify her? Step inside our mobile, then. There's plenty of coffee and donuts…"


	9. Chapter 9

"That body swinging at the far right? He raped a 15-year old girl." Barsad explained. "And the one hanging next to him raped a woman while her children watched!"

Bane, Barsad, Natasha and Stella were standing at the south side of City Hall, facing Gotham Square, where victims of Bane's revolution swung from power lines. Both bodies were dressed in black and white with the word 'RAPE' painted in prominent black letters on the front and back of their white tee-shirts.

"I accept that my speech at Blackgate may have misled some men, so I am adding a new wrinkle." Bane told the two women. "Those who commit rape can expect to lose their lives in this manner. The warning to Gotham males includes the men under my command."

Bane had desperately wanted the women's approval on this matter, but he could tell by their expressions that neither one was pleased with his methods.

Natasha pushed her glasses to her forehead and stared at the corpses with a troubled expression.

"Boss..." she began… "we talked about this when I first approached your crew. I swore an oath to my profession that I would do no harm, and you were okay with that when you took me on. Bottom line, I don't agree with your methods of punishment and prevention here."

"I understand your concern, Dr. Van Dyne, and I respect your oath. I swore an oath to my brotherhood as well." Bane reminded her mildly.

Natasha nodded in response. "I know you did. And I'm happy that you decided to right your wrong. But these men deserved a chance to make the right decision, if only they'd been aware of your new rules. Nothing can be done for them now, so my only hope is that their hanging bodies send a strong enough message, because I wouldn't want to see any more of this." She said, shaking her head sternly.

Disappointed in Natasha's reaction, Bane turned to Stella.

"Did you kill them?" the journalist asked.

Bane remembered the last time she had asked him that question, when his answer had caused her to avoid him for several days…

"No, I did not." He answered truthfully. "That task was assigned to other men."

"Well, I think you should broadcast your penalty for rape. Natasha is right. Potential offenders have the right to know what they're up against. You should go before the cameras, Bane."

Bane shook his head. "I have no wish to appear in front of the cameras again, Stella, because as you say, I have become somewhat of a celebrity. Therefore these bodies will have to suffice as messengers." He said.

Sensing Bane's deep disappointment in the reaction of the two women, Barsad spoke up.

"Leave it in my hands, Bane." he said. "I'll drop in on the pushy redhead at GCN. She'll love another reason to trash you."

"Good man!" Bane said approvingly, directing a proud stare at Stella and Natasha. "Until Barsad gets the word out, rapists will be arrested, but will not be harmed. I hope that meets with your approval, my dears?" he asked politely.

"That's great!" Natasha said happily. "But I have to break this up, kids. I'm due at Gotham General to assist in a C-Section, and then I have a new patient to see. So, how about a lift, Barsad?"

"With pleasure, Doc!" Barsad grinned. "Step this way, the tumbler awaits."

Bane watched curiously as Barsad and Natasha departed in the tumbler. "It seems you and I must return to the townhouse on foot, Stella." he rumbled. "If we take the back alleys, I can avoid that Kent woman from GCN." He confided. "Do not fear, you will be safe with me."

Stella grinned at his words. He'd never before mentioned an aversion to Jackie Kent, the dragon lady of Gotham City News. And there it was again, the assertion that Stella should be grateful for his protection.

"You are sporting your secret smile." Bane observed cheerfully. It was the smile that made his heart leap. "Now, what is so amusing?"

"It's nothing." She lied. "I um… presume Natasha's 'new patient' is the Harvard man you picked out for her?"

"You presume correctly." He chirped. "Worry not, Stella. He is the right man for Dr. Van Dyne."

"But what if she rejects him?" Stella argued.

"I have thought of that, of course." He said. "But, I am confident in my abilities."

They walked in awkward silence for a moment, and Stella tried to make conversation, until she remembered some unfinished business…

"Bane…" she said, turning to him. "Would you allow me to interview you for my story?"

The masked man wheezed in exasperation. "Have you not gleaned enough information about me by observation?" he asked. "I am a leader, and uncomfortable as the subject of a celebrity profile."

"It won't be a celebrity profile!" she promised. "I've never written a celebrity piece in my life and besides which, you said you looked forward to reading it. Why are you now expressing doubts?"

"Because, Stella, I am a man, not a tee-shirt transfer."

Stella's laughter reverberated through the alleyway. "There, you see? It's that kind of talk that makes you so interesting. The world sees you as a ruthless killer and terrorist—and you are—but you're also…very charming at times." She admitted.

Bane immediately warmed to Stella's praise, hoping flattery was this very resistant female's way of expressing her attraction for him.

"Proceed with your questions." He allowed stoically. "But be warned, some I will not answer."

"Why don't you begin by telling me about yourself?" she suggested. "Just start talking."

Bane remained silent as they passed through a stinking wet alley strewn with garbage and mismatched shoes, and then he began to speak.

"I grew to manhood in a prison known to its inmates as the Pit." He began. "Father unknown. Mother a Spanish whore and pickpocket. She never recovered from the rigors of childbirth, though I'm told she lingered for six months. During her confinement, she was befriended by the man who became my guardian."

"Hold it right there!" Stella interjected. "How is it you grew up in prison, but speak like an English gentleman?"

Bane offered Stella his "Do not interrupt me, woman" stare and continued his story.

"Despite having been incarcerated for many years, my guardian was an optimist who encouraged me to prepare myself for a better life. He was a British army officer, imprisoned for stealing antiquities while stationed in Morocco. I admired his speech and carriage, and so I acquired his mannerisms. He also gave me a classical education.

"Do you think your guardian might have been your father?"

"I will never know." Bane admitted. "Apparently I was the very image of my—of the woman who bore me. If my guardian did father me, he did not reveal it."

It was obvious to Stella that Bane had spent time thinking about his parents, but kept those shadows at a distance. And she noticed he avoided using possessive pronouns when referring to them.

"I was an ambitious lad, a quick study, and told I was quite handsome." He boasted, ending the subject of his parents. "In time, I too became the guardian of a child."

Stella's head began to swim at the prospect of a handsome Bane. She already found him impossibly gorgeous with the mask. How much more attractive could he be without it?"

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Are you handsome?"

Bane's brow furrowed. "I do not know if one could describe me thus now." He said with surprising honesty.

"Why? What's underneath the mask?" she asked, resisting the impulse to touch the mechanism on his face.

"Scars." He answered without hesitation.

Just as Bane was debating how much more he should reveal, circumstances interrupted his narrative. They had taken a short cut and found themselves in an alley between the Public Library and the Opera House, and when they entered the space, they discovered they weren't alone.

A pair of lovers engaged in the throes of foreplay noisily made their presence known in the narrow space, oblivious to onlookers. Their exaggerated sighs and moans bounced off the concrete walls as their mouths moved ravenously across willing flesh, and the woman's exposed breasts spilled generously from her lover's greedy hands. Despite the chilly temperatures, her feet were bare and she wore only a thin dress. The lover had tossed his coat aside and released his feverish cock. Now his insatiable hands moved from her breasts to her bottom, and he hoisted the dark-haired beauty roughly against the alley wall, right hand beneath her skirts to finish preparing a place for him.

Stella froze, unable to look away as the woman welcomed her lover, eagerly wrapping her legs around his waist as he pushed into her.

"Oh!" A startled Stella gasped, as the moment of penetration felt oddly personal.

The lover buried his face in the dark hair of his woman and began to taunt her with deliberate strokes, groaning loudly and kneading her tortuously in search of the position that would set her ablaze. It was truly frenetic, high speed sex. The woman moaned impatiently as he teased her to the point of frenzy. Then her sharp cry signaled him to accelerate, and he began pounding into her repeatedly and desperately –

"It is impolite to stare, my dear."

Stella snapped out of her enthrallment at the sound of Bane's tender reprimand and the feel of his warm grip on her hand.

"Oh…of course…" she looked away awkwardly. Her cheeks were crimson, and not only because of the intimacy playing out before them.

For a few moments, she had lived vicariously through the copulating couple. She'd felt every inch of the lover's thrusts, and silently parroted the woman's every shriek, gasp and moan. And she had the damp undies to prove it. At some point in the lovemaking she blinked, and could have sworn she was the woman, and the lover was Bane.

As her raging blush travelled down her neck to her intimate parts, there was no question in her mind that Bane was well aware of her fascination…and envy.

Awkward silence followed and Stella fought to steady her breathing, until she forced herself to say something...anything.

"Are you sure this is what you want for the city? People fucking in the streets like animals?"

She could see by his eyes that he was smiling, and she wasn't surprised that he took pleasure in her heightened colour and distress.

"We live in turbulent times, Stella." He rumbled, his soft, hazel eyes examining her with fresh interest. "We must seize love wherever and whenever we find it."

Stella blinked, and released a shuddering sigh. "If you're trying to seduce me, then that's the oldest line in the book..." she said, only too aware of the pleasing twinges down below.

"Then I apologize for being old-fashioned." Bane responded amiably and briefly returned his own flushed gaze to the lovers, who were whispering feverishly between urgent kisses and gasps.

"Now, let us give the lovers some privacy." He insisted, gripping her hand and pulling her roughly away from the scene.

I'd spent a lot of time with the masked man, observing him for this piece. But I had yet to actually sit down and interview him. In fact, I wasn't even sure he would consent to be interviewed. I found myself alone with him at City Hall on the day he revealed his punishment for rape, and had my chance. He agreed to the interview and began to tell me his fascinating story, but the interview abruptly ended when we stumbled on a half-dressed couple engaged in loud, frantic intercourse.

Had the lovers just reunited after being separated by Bane's uprising? Were they strangers seeking comfort in a lawless city? Or were they former members of Gotham's elite, indulging in the only wealth left to them?

Whatever the lovers' reasons for urgent, outdoor sex, it was obvious that Bane heartily approved of the couple's audacity, and the incident wasn't the first to make me suspect that beneath the bullet proof breast beat the heart of a romantic.

Stella closed her laptop and returned to her untouched salad, her busy mind replaying the alley sex incident. The rest of the walk back to the Daggett building was the longest journey she'd ever taken. Bane eventually let go of her hand, but neither one of them spoke. Bane didn't have to. His body heat radiated pleasure, leaving the unwilling journalist spellbound. Damn him.

Stretching out on the office couch, she closed her eyes to think, until Abraham entered the office wearing a very grim expression.

"I'm s-sorry, Stella, but you n-need to w-watch this." He said as he pressed the tv remote button.

"BREAKING NEWS…Gotham City News is investigating the possibility that a citizen of Gotham may have been acting as an agent for the League of Shadows, the secret society thought to be the power behind Bane and his mercenaries.

Stella Louise Browning, a 27-year old magazine editor was reported missing and feared dead by her co-workers the day after Bane's attack on Rogue Stadium. But GCN has uncovered video that reveals Browning to be alive and well, and apparently cooperating with Bane's army.

Though none of this information is especially incriminating given the number of Gotham citizens who have willingly joined Bane's revolution, GCN has placed Browning at a Red Cross camp in Darfur the same day it was visited by members of the League of Shadows two years ago.

Browning, a former freelance journalist who reported on the activities of the Red Cross in Africa eventually returned to Gotham, where she became the editor of "Gotham Woman". Of specific interest to authorities is a magazine photo shoot arranged by her a year ago in the Gotham sewers. We now know that it was through the sewers that Bane and his army entered the city…

Working on the theory that Browning may have been recruited in Africa, and scouted the sewers in advance for the League of Shadows, the FBI and CIA have also become involved, but so far neither agency has issued comment.

For the next several hours, they watched GCN's breaking news coverage, where footage of Stella was played repeatedly. The cameras had captured her walking with both Barsad and Abraham, and she was also spotted in the crowd during the confrontation between Bane and the Blackgate inmate, Monk.

Larry Crowe, the photographer who had identified her, appeared as a guest in the GCN studios and was interviewed at great length about the winter coat feature he was hired to shoot for Gotham Woman in the sewers.

When asked about Stella, he claimed, "She's a nice woman…but kind of uptight, standoffish and really strict with the models she works with. I remember her boss was really hot for her. She's also a perfectionist, so the best part of working with her was all the overtime pay."

When asked if he noticed anything suspicious about her, he shrugged and said. "She's kind of close to the vest. I wouldn't be at all surprised to find she was working for a terrorist organization."

After Larry Crowe, GCN paraded a series of guests, most of whom Stella might have met once in her life, or not at all. There were false claims and plenty of conjecture about her academic, employment, political and sexual history.

She eventually left the room in abject humiliation seeking out the terrace of the 60th story townhouse.

"Bring Mr. Crowe to me." Bane spoke lowly to Barsad.

The townhouse terrace was protected by a three-foot brick wall, topped by Plexiglas. Stella had previously been fearful of the 60-story space, but now it gave her a strange feeling of exhilaration.

She'd been staring at the sunset, worried sick about her family and her future, when a massive arm suddenly wrapped itself around her waist. Stella gasped and tried to push Bane away, but her emotions quickly gave in to his masculine authority and care, and she held on to his arm for dear life.

"All those people, pretending to know me for two minutes of fame." She uttered. "I don't know who they are, they don't know me, and I never, ever dated a white supremacist when I was in high school!" she rambled as her voice shook.

"The authorities will soon discover there are no connections between you and the League of Shadows." Bane assured her. "The fraudulent characters will disappear, and you will be in a position to sue GCN for defamation of character. Now come away from here, Stella." he said cautiously. "We are 60 stories high and you are distressed. I do not like the equation."

Stella squirmed out of his hold and turned to look at him. "But what about the stigma? I know they'll find me innocent, but ... my reputation? My name will always be associated with the League of Shadows and your revolution. That's going to make it difficult for me to get another job, That is, if I survive your bomb blast…"

Bane stared wordlessly at the blonde journalist. She was, as always, thinking of her career. He believed she was overreacting, and that the scandal would soon pass. As for the bomb, as far as he was concerned, she would be leaving the city with him, even if he had to knock her on the head and carry her out unconscious.

"I have a favour to ask of you." Stella said, breaking into his thoughts. The very last thing she wanted was to be in debt to Bane, but now she had no other option.

"I will do what I can" he stated evenly. "What is it?"

"There are people who are going to be angry, believing that I helped you destroy the city, and they'll want to hurt my family in retaliation. I have relatives here in Gotham that I lived with for four months every year while my parents were stationed in Africa, and I need to go to them now. I need to make sure they're safe, and to assure them that what they hear about me isn't true. I should have tried to contact them before now, but I've been too busy working on the tabloid and chasing fame!" She said bitterly, thoroughly disgusted by the thoughtlessness she'd shown the lovely couple that cared for her in her teenaged years. "Now I wouldn't blame them if they believed the stories about me."

She shivered and appealed to Bane. "I'm asking you to let me go to them."

The mercenary shook his head immediately. "I cannot let you go." he said firmly. "Your image is all over the news, and if you were killed because you were recognized, what good would it do your family? Even if you reached their home safely, you might be greeted by an ambush just waiting for you to arrive."

Stella groaned and hid her face in her hands. "Please, Bane? Can't Barsad take me?"

"I refuse to risk either you or my best man on a sentimental rescue mission. You are valuable to me, Stella. I need you for the tabloid." he wheezed, his eyes hard and shiny. "And furthermore, you are barred from leaving this building until further notice." he added, uncomfortable with the fear he was feeling. "It is the only safe place for you now."

Following Bane's refusal, Stella tossed and turned most of the night. She'd half expected him to refuse her request, but she never expected him to react so coldly.

Perhaps he was right in calling Stella's request a sentimental rescue mission, but all she could think about was the danger and distress facing her beloved aunt and uncle, and she spent the long night trying to figure out a solution.

She could make an escape attempt in order to get to the house. But Bane was right; She would be alone, it would be very dangerous and there might very well be an ambush waiting for her.

Scratch that.

So, could she be approaching the dilemma in the wrong way? Maybe the answer was to be found in the lengths to which she would go to get what she wanted...

She rose from the bed to stare at her reflection in the mirror, hugging her pillow.

Just how far was she willing to go? And would she be able to look herself in the mirror afterwards?

She crawled back into her bed and stared at the ceiling, mentally preparing herself for the day to come.

Next morning, with her courage firmly in place, she sought out Bane and found him in the kitchen, dressed in his tight black shirt and tossing the remains of his tea cup into the sink.

"Good morning." She greeted him shyly, making a mental note to ask him how he was able to drink tea from a cup.

Bane was speechless, instantly stirred by the early morning sight of her, fresh from the shower, her hair damp and loose, and her complexion freckled…

"I was wondering… if you might have reconsidered your decision to allow me to visit my aunt and uncle." She said, coming straight to the point.

Bane's brow rose. "Did you not hear what I said last night?" he wheezed as he strolled dangerously towards her. "It is far too dangerous."

To Stella he looked exactly like a lion, about to jump its prey. Taking a deep breath, she swallowed hard, advancing three steps out of her comfort zone to cautiously rest the palms of her hands on the chest she'd so often dreamt of touching. The heat of his body traveled through her fingertips to her arms, and ignited a rash of goosebumps all over her body. Instinctively, her thumb began to stroke the soft black fabric of his shirt.

"Let's put aside the concept of 'danger' for a moment." She suggested as she focused on his dark hazel orbs. "I have an idea, an idea that we can call a trade. If you were to allow me to go to my relatives' house, then isn't there something I can give you in return…something that you want?"


	10. Chapter 10

History is Made at Night

by batmanbane

 

Chapter 10

Bane's brow quivered in disbelief, interpreting Stella's words and the actions of her thumb until his chest began to heave with equal parts arousal and outrage.

"You are…propositioning me." He observed with quiet menace, once he found his ragged voice. "I should kill you for that." His mask wheezed unsteadily as his twitching fingers hovered ominously at her neck.

Bane was no puritan, but Stella had shocked him. There were other women he'd known who would have easily offered such an overture without blinking. But he had thought her different from them.

She wasn't the sort to blithely trade sex for favours. At least, that's how he had come to know her. Further, in his estimation she was a neglected woman in need of a skilled lover. That lover would be him, of course, but he'd always expected she would approach him willingly.

Was he nothing more to her than means to an end? He had noticed the tendency in her before after she had agreed to work for him, when it meant she could also write her ambitious Gotham piece, and sell it to a corrupt American publisher in return for fame and fortune.

But this situation was different. Sex was now in the equation, and the fact that she offered herself to him out of desperation was not only an affront to his male pride, but certainly not very flattering.

Now, he understood her reasons for the proposition. She'd been tagged as a traitor, a claim that had placed her family at risk, and now she needed to protect and reassure them of her innocence. Her reasons were further enhanced by feelings of guilt for having neglected them in the early weeks of the Occupation. And he had compounded her desperation by refusing her request for help-twice.

With this consideration in mind, he continued his interrogation of the woman who stunned him. "Have you… previously offered yourself to a man?" He demanded as he slowly rested his fingers on her neck.

"I'm not 'offering' my body to you." She insisted quietly, not surprised by how he had chosen to interpret the situation. "It's a trade. And no, I don't sleep around."

"I am glad to hear it." He rumbled condescendingly. "What makes you think I do?"

Stella couldn't stop the warm laughter that suddenly escaped from her throat. "Oh, spare me the hypocrisy, Bane." She smiled. "Your conduct toward me has always been very forward and obvious, but the minute I reciprocate, you become Mr. Virtuous!"

She thought about the first day she'd met him, when his hands had roamed her body and unfastened her hair. He'd touched her many times since then, even though she'd asked him not to. Bane was a spectacularly attractive man, and she naturally assumed he was a 'harem' type who had plenty of women. Of course she thought of him as that kind of man.

"Point taken." Bane conceded thoughtfully. "I'll admit that I have not always behaved like a perfect gentleman before you, but I have never suggested a sexual dalliance between the two of us." He was staring at her with increased fascination, cautiously removing his fingers from her neck, his angry mind alive with more questions.

"I wonder about your intentions as well as your expectations, Stella." He continued. "Assuming I agree to the trade, are you truly willing, and do you fully intend to give me your body? Or do you expect that I will be a gentleman, allow this mission to your family home and then release you-

"Look." she interrupted him, boldly attempting to bluff. "It wasn't easy coming to you about this."

"You did not let me finish, my dear." Bane cut into her words mercilessly. "…do you expect that I will be a gentleman, allow this mission to your family home, and release you from your obligation? Because, I have no intention of releasing you."

"And you didn't let me finish." she flushed angrily. "I said it wasn't easy coming to you about this…and since you're obviously uncomfortable about it, I think we'll just forget the whole thing. Forget I ever asked."

Bane gripped her arm to stop her from leaving the kitchen. He couldn't deny that his body thrilled to the anticipation of Stella's submission to him, especially as she was now, very resistant. But…his mind could not readily dismiss the disturbing reality of Stella offering her body to him like a common...

"No, we will not forget it." He said, his voice becoming low and threatening. "Perhaps I have looked upon you too idealistically for my own good. Come here."

"You let go." She ordered, still struggling, but pleased that he had apparently taken the carrot. Bane's large hands held her securely in place.

"I consider myself a gentleman." he began, peering into her eyes, "but there is something about your proposal that calls to my baser instincts, Stella. At face value, your scheme is a cynical one, trading sex for a service. As I am also a ruthless man, why shouldn't I respond in kind and accept your trade as offered?"

"You do that!" Stella baited him, refusing to be intimidated.

"I will not only allow you to go to your family's home, but I will also accompany you myself. But we will travel there during curfew when the streets are quieter. Understand that there is no guarantee that you will find your family at home. They might have been forced out, or they might have gone into hiding. And you must also prepare yourself for the possibility of discovering their bodies."

An enormous sense of relief washed over Stella, and she was thankful for a brief moment of peace between them.

"Thank you." She said after a time. "I'm …grateful. I know there are no guarantees, but this means a lot to me, as you can probably tell." Her voice carried a distinct note of shame that Bane didn't fail to recognize.

"What is the family surname?" he asked, wheezing more calmly now.

"Palicki. Arthur and Connie Palicki. The house is on Booth St."

"Then we meet here at 0400 hours tomorrow. And I want you to arm yourself." He warned her.

"I will be armed." She promised, nodding and shifting uncomfortably. Bane had released his hold on her, and now that she'd reached the moment of truth she was unsure how to proceed.

Gotham Woman had routinely featured 'how-to' articles with titles such as 'Make him hot for you' and 'The move he wants you to make', but Stella's chaotic mind couldn't recall a single detail from any of them. In the end, she resorted to decidedly unromantic words.

"Uhh …your room or mine?"

Bane closed his eyes as his body went to war with his mind. The little sex kitten that proposed the trade only moments ago was locked up again, and it wasn't likely that Stella would allow her out to play again anytime soon.

Yes, the trade was cynical, but in practice, it didn't have to be that way, he had decided.

He would give her the awakening she so desperately needed. He would cultivate her body, pin her to the bed, prove his authority and build her passion stroke by stroke until she screamed his name. He would make her love him, and there was nothing cynical in that scenario. In fact, he looked forward to making it a reality.

Bane emerged from his reverie, his manhood pressing urgently against the zipper of his cargo pants.

your room or mine?

He opened his eyes to the vision of Stella, her skin still shower-fresh and freckled, her blonde hair still damp and free of the damned pony tail-its absence no doubt intended to be a further enticement for him. He reached out and briefly knotted his nervous fingers through a section of her hair.

The war was decided …and Bane's mask wheezed unsteadily until he found the right words.

Glancing around the kitchen he gathered an internal resolve, his fathomless pupils projecting the expression of detached annoyance that Stella found so captivating. When his eyes returned to hers, he spoke.

"You need to be well rested tomorrow. The gates of paradise will wait."

Exhausted by her confrontation with Bane, Stella slammed her office door and collapsed on the couch, sighing as she stared up at the ceiling.

The scene in the kitchen had not transpired as she planned, but at least she had achieved what she wanted. Bane was prepared to escort her to the home of her aunt and uncle tomorrow.

But, she hadn't counted on his reaction to her proposition. He was angry and confrontational, and although Stella had called him out on his hypocrisy, his disappointment in her troubled Stella deeply...

Once their argument peaked, Bane ultimately accepted the trade, but put off her obligation to him for the present time.

The gates of paradise. It was another of the corny, but slightly sweet phrases he occasionally used; the ones that sounded like they were lifted from bad romance novels. Drifting off to sleep, she wondered how long he would keep her in suspense as far as 'paradise' was concerned.

"Jackie Kent, you have ten seconds to come out of that truck!" Barsad's amplified voice echoed throughout the downtown core.

Standing on top of the tumbler with his megaphone, he sneered as he watched the opinionated reporter reluctantly peek out the back door of the truck before gingerly stepping out on to the pavement.

"What do you want?" she asked cautiously. Her hands were comically raised in the air, indicating she was unarmed.

"I have a gift from Bane." He then gestured to his men and jumped easily from the roof of the tumbler to the pavement.

On cue, two mercenaries dragged a lifeless cargo from the back of the vehicle and tossed it at the redheaded woman's high-heeled feet.

Jackie gasped in horror as she recognized the body of Larry Crowe, the photographer who first suggested the possibility of Stella Browning's disloyalty. His neck was obviously broken, and his head lay at a sickening angle away from the rest of his body.

"You people will pay for this!" she uttered sanctimoniously, ignoring her own role in Larry's demise.

"Oh. I don't know about that, ma'am!" Barsad smirked in typically low-keyed fashion.

Glancing around the area, he spotted the videographer who had likely captured the entire incident.

"You with the camera! Point that thing at me!" he ordered through his megaphone.

The terrified videographer took one look at the intimidating rifle and artillery adorning Barsad, and quickly adjusted his field of vision from the body of Larry Crowe to Bane's lieutenant.

"I'm going to make a speech now." Barsad grinned, positioning himself so that the bodies hanging in Gotham Square could be seen directly behind him. "You ready?" he asked the videographer, who nodded obediently.

"People of Gotham! Or should I say, Gentlemen of Gotham! You should know that Bane doesn't approve of men who violate women! So, any man caught in the act won't be sent to Crane's Court!"

With a sweeping gesture Barsad revealed the bodies behind him, pausing for dramatic effect as they swung back and forth in the breeze. He smirked lazily before finishing his speech.

"No …they'll go straight to the hangman …because that is Bane's punishment for rape." He finished.

Facing the camera once again, he passed his index finger in a quick, horizontal gesture across his neck, signaling to cut. The videographer eagerly showed Barsad the playback, just to make sure he was satisfied.

"Now." Barsad said calmly, returning his attention to Jackie Kent. "I want you to broadcast that piece, including the part where I indicate 'cut', every six minutes. If it isn't on air in the next fifteen minutes, I'll send the masked man down here to find out why." He threatened quietly.

Early the next morning, Bane and Stella arrived at their destination in a battered vehicle, parking a block away from the home of Stella's aunt and uncle.

Bane was all business, and to Stella's relief he made no mention of the trade she had suggested the previous day. He was wearing his full armour, bullet-proof vest and shearling coat, and carrying a rifle. Stella wore one of the khaki uniforms Barsad had given her, sturdy boots and a red scarf hiding her hair. As promised, she carried a pistol in her pocket.

The sun was about to rise as they approached the home on foot, and Bane turned to address her.

"Listen to me, now." He said sternly. "I will have none of your stubbornness and backtalk here, or your feminist heroics. I am in charge onsite, and you will do exactly as I say while we are here. Is that understood, Stella?"

Stella had often read that relationships couldn't survive without give and take, but it wasn't advice that she'd ever truly taken to heart. She always did what she could to get her own way, but there was always a first time. Allowing Bane to take her hand, she simply said, "Lead the way. Upstairs and to your left."

"The house is unstable." He observed as they stopped in the doorway. "Damaged in the explosions."

Stella made to rush past him into the house, but Bane would not release her hand. "Stay with me…" he ordered, " …at all times."

As they entered the home's tiny vestibule, they heard the approach of a vehicle in need of a new exhaust pipe, along with a chorus of aggressive male voices.

"Cocksuckers!" the voices shouted as a large rock crashed through one of the windows.

"And stay away from the windows." Bane added, without further comment.

Entering the main living area, Stella was stunned by the sight of two bruised addicts, naked and slumped against one another on the couch, muttering incoherently. There was drug paraphernalia all over the room.

Bane took two giant steps towards them, needles and spoons crunching beneath his feet. He lifted the first addict by his skinny arm, thrusting him violently to the floor. Shocked, the man rose up on his knees in protest, but Bane grabbed his head and twisted it savagely, until Stella heard a sickening crack.

She forced herself to look away again as the mercenary turned his attention to the second addict, who had fallen to the floor to aid his companion. There came an ominous muffling and sounds of struggle, followed by silence. Bane had suffocated the second man with his hand.

"Do not look away, Stella." He ordered. "Never forget why I have come to Gotham."

Though she was shaken by Bane's cruelty, she again took his hand and they both looked into closets and under beds. There had been other vandalism throughout, but the house hadn't been completely trashed. They checked the basement, the attic, the tiny garden and garage out back, but there was no sign of Arthur or Connie, or their remains.

Back in the main room, Bane checked the fireplace, squatting at the hearth to have a look inside the flue. "I'm afraid it is time for us to leave." He decided. "It seems your family might have left in a hurray, since their luggage remains. It is difficult to determine whether or not there was a struggle when they left."

He rose from the fireplace hearth just as an unearthly rumble sounded, and Stella felt herself thrown across the room.

"Wha … what happened?" she coughed. She was on the floor, covered in heavy dust, and she immediately rolled over to locate Bane.

It was then she realized the fireplace was gone, including the wall that had supported it, replaced by the new morning sun pouring through the empty space, and a mountain of bricks and mortar staring her in the face.

"Bane?" Stella called, looking around the room fearfully. "Where are you?"

On the 60th floor of the Daggett Building, Talia al Ghul angrily stared down Barsad in the kitchen of Bane's townhouse.

"It seems Bane forgot about our meeting this morning." She hissed, confronting the well-armed sharpshooter as though the missed appointment had been his fault. Talia was dressed in her expensive Miranda Tait gear, accompanied by the lingering scent of an rare perfume. "Where is he?"

"I really don't know, ma'am." Barsad fibbed. He loathed Talia, resented having to take orders from her, and worried obsessively about her hold on Bane. Barsad had not known her the way Bane so often defended her, as the innocent child warped by prison experience. Unmoved by the tragedy of her past, what mattered to him was that she had become a destroyer of men, a feat she had achieved by negotiating the Gotham social network bed by bed, becoming one of the most influential business figures in the city.

"Urgent matters, that's all he said." He shrugged.

Talia was silent for a moment as she began circling the kitchen, inspecting every inch of it before looking up to the ceiling.

"There is a woman here." She announced in an unforgiving tone. "Now I understand the cause of his distraction."

"There's no woman here." Barsad claimed, not untruthfully. He was well aware that Stella had left with Bane earlier to go to her family's house.

Talia smirked and strolled lazily toward the unwilling lieutenant.

"Nothing is more attractive than a man who is a skilled liar." She whispered, nipping at Barsad's left earlobe as her right hand reached down to squeeze his right buttock. "In my experience they are very good in bed. Shall we find a room upstairs, John?"

Barsad coughed. He was revolted by her unwelcome sexual overture, and his body froze.

Whatever plans Talia had for him upstairs were thwarted by the sound of the elevator door and the arrival of a startled Abraham into the kitchen.

Talia frowned at the intrusion but reluctantly conceded defeat.

"Oh …I'm afraid I must say goodbye for now, Barsad." She said grinning in her sweet Miranda Tait way. "When Bane returns, would you remind him of our missed meeting?"

"I'll do that, ma'am." Barsad said, unable to disguise his relief at the prospect of her departure.

As soon as the elevator door sounded, and Talia disappeared, Barsad collapsed against the kitchen counter for emotional support.

"Shit!" he swore. "Thank you, Brother! You just saved my life."

"Oh, c-come on, Barsad!" Abraham scoffed. "D-don't tell me you d-didn't enjoy it!"

"Tell you what." the sweating Barsad said. "Next time you can take my place. Her perfume is all over me, and if Bane smells it, I'm a dead man. I gotta hit the showers."

"Hold on!" Stella shouted as she attempted to jam the fireplace's broken flue pipe into the pile of rubble that trapped Bane. "I'm giving you an air passage. Just tell me you're still alive!" she begged." She didn't want to tell him that the one and only cell phone they carried was in his pocket.

As soon as she heard a faint groan, her emotions overcame her and she panicked. Abandoning the pipe, she tore downstairs and out of the house, instantly spotting a very large man who was limping down the street.

"Help me, mister! You've got to help me!" she shrieked as she hurried to catch up with him.

"Huh?" he answered gruffly. He turned his head angrily, and Stella was greeted with the pock-marked visage of Monk, the Blackgate inmate that Bane had sexually disabled in front of news cameras.

"Sure I'll help you, Blondie!" he replied, promptly recognizing Stella and gripping her in a forceful headlock. "But I'm gonna need payment in advance." He cackled viciously as Stella struggled in vain to release herself from his grip. "By the way, I hear you're a traitor now, so welcome to La Famiglia." He jeered as he gripped her even tighter.

Stella coughed, gasping for breath as she struggled in his hold.

"Your boyfriend did me a favour when he smashed my dick." He breathed into her ear, and she gagged at the rancid odor of his breath. " 'Cause I got this for a replacement." He shoved a broken broom handle stained with dried blood into her face and added, "It works even better, and I get just as much pleasure out of it."

Unable to scream, she struggled to remember long ago self-defense lessons and waved her legs frantically in hopes of disabling a shin or foot with her heel. After several attempts, she felt her heel sink into the small of his foot, and her fury provided the adrenalin needed to crush his foot as forcefully as she could manage.

Monk roared, writhing in pain and unintentionally releasing her from his headlock. The next few seconds played out as a dream. Stella sprang from his grasp, reached into her right pocket for her pistol and swung her body violently in a half circle to the left, sinking the butt of her gun into the temple of the violent inmate.

Monk's facial expression changed in slow motion from anger to surprise, and she watched grimly as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body fell backwards to the ground. With no time to spare she hovered over his body to retrieve her gun, just as a feminine voice called out to her.

"I was going to help you out, sister, but you were doing just fine!" Stella turned to see a dark-haired beauty about her age, with expressive eyes, dressed in a smart winter jacket.

"Help me!" Stella insisted. "A wall collapsed inside, and there's a man trapped in the rubble. You've got to help me get him out!" she urged, grabbing the woman's hand and pulling her up the exterior stairs of the damaged brick home.

"Wait just a minute!" the other woman balked. "If a wall collapsed, is it safe to go in there?"

"It's safe enough, don't worry, I've already been up there." Stella persisted. "Now hurry! My name is Stella."

"Selina." The dark haired woman responded flatly, reluctantly following Stella up the stairs.

Inside, they began moving bricks and mortar as quickly as they could manage. But by now, Stella was so distraught and so afraid for Bane that she made a fatal error.

"Bane!" she called over the rubble. "Can you hear me? We're digging you out, you're going to be okay!"

Like a shot, Selina was back on her feet.

"Bane is under there?" She demanded, backing away in fear. "Sorry, honey, but I can't help you. And if you're smart, you'll let him die here."

"But he needs our help!" Stella pleaded. "He - he can't breathe under there!"

"Look... I worked for him. And when he had no further use for me, he sent his men to kill me." Selina told her. "I watched him beat a friend to death, and I've been on the run from him ever since. "

"Can't you at least go to Barsad and tell him I need help?" The journalist pleaded.

"No." she shook her head patronizingly. "Barsad will kill me, honey. The minute he lays eyes on me. Don't you get it? You need to run now, before it happens to you, too. One day you'll be of no further use to him and he'll have you killed."

"Just go, then!" Stella screamed hysterically. "You heartless, murdering bitch! Get out of my sight, I'll dig him out myself!" She chased the fast-retreating Selina down the stairs, her hands raw and bloodied from trying to free Bane.

"Somebody please help me?" she appealed to the empty street, her voice weak with grief and hopelessness. She wiped the encroaching tears away with bleeding hands, and when she opened her eyes, an agitated 11-year old boy stood before her.

"I'll help you, Stella." Ahmed said, clearly perturbed by her tears. "Don't cry."

They were the longest fifteen minutes Stella had ever endured. After sending Ahmed on a mission to bring Barsad, Stella continued to dig out Bane.

"I almost have you out!" she called, needing to comfort him even though she had no idea if he could hear her. "Don't you worry." she puffed as she continued to push piles of brick and mortar away. "Barsad is coming. I'm here, and. I've almost got you, and everything is going to be okay." She babbled. "Can you hear me, Bane?"

"Damn you!" she choked during the ensuing silence. "Why don't you talk to me? Give me a sign …Bane! ...anything!"

There was still no answer beneath the rubble and Stella would have given in to her despair had she not spotted the mercenary's thumb under a broken brick. Digging out his hand, she felt for a pulse.

"You're alive!" she laughed through wet eyes. "See? I told you I'd get you out!"

In the next few minutes she'd completely uncovered him, and brushed the dust and dirt away from his mask so he could breathe easier. She never let go of his hand or stopped talking to him, even though he didn't respond. The mask was damaged, and Bane was out cold.

The familiar roar of tumblers tore into the silent street, followed by the sounds of men's voices, and the sight of Barsad brushing past her to get to Bane. Exhausted, Stella felt herself being lifted by her arms, carried out of the house, and tossed into the back of a tumbler. As the vehicle accelerated, she was vaguely aware of another unearthly rumble and haze of dust...


	11. Chapter 11

**History is Made at Night**

by batmanbane

Most true is it that 'beauty is in the eye of the gazer'.

― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

 

Chapter 11

 

Dr. Natasha Van Dyne threw open the door of an empty office near her makeshift hospital in the Daggett building, finally locating Stella.

"There you are!" she cried out in exasperation. "I've been looking all over for you!"

The shell-shocked journalist was slumped in a large office chair, staring into space.

"I don't want to be found, Natasha. I took a man's life today, and I almost got another man killed…" she said dejectedly.

"Stop talking like that!" Natasha insisted. "You had no alternative! That man was going to rape you with a broomstick and kill you. You saved Bane and yourself because you fought back against Monk.

"Yesterday a humanitarian. Today a bloodthirsty bitch." Stella observed cynically. "Quite a leap isn't it, Natasha?"

Natasha rubbed Stella's back sympathetically. "One thing at a time, okay? You haven't even asked about Bane. Don't you at least want to see him?"

"I don't…know." Stella admitted, pulling up her stained and dirty t-shirt to wipe her face. "I caused so much trouble by asking him to take me to that house. He's probably going to break my neck."

"I really don't think he's going to do that." Natasha claimed, pushing her glasses to the top of her head.

"How do you know he won't?"

"Because he's asleep. I put him down for a long winter's nap." Natasha replied. "His injuries aren't serious enough to put him in Gotham General, and that's a good thing, because there are too many opportunities for people to get to him in that location. He's so much safer here."

"How is he, then?" Stella asked, her voice trembling.

"He has a mild concussion, lacerations and bruises, but nothing too serious." Natasha explained. "The mask and vest gave him lots of protection, and you did a great job of digging him out so quickly, considering the lack of cooperation.

Stella was on her feet now, nodding and clenching her fists at the disturbing memory. "That's good. I'm so glad." She said, struggling not to burst into tears in front of the doctor. She hadn't cried for years until being taken by Bane. Since then, it had become almost a daily occurrence. It was time for her to toughen up.

"Go on in." the doctor insisted.

"Natasha, I really don't want to wake him..." she said shakily.

"You won't. This man is going to sleep for a week if I can help it, because he is exhausted. And I've got him on a pretty strong sedative. Now, in you go."

Stella expected to see a somewhat vulnerable figure, but as her eyes acclimated to the semi-darkness of the improvised hospital room, she caught sight of a naked chest, rising and falling in deep sleep, which didn't suggest vulnerability to her in the least. Next, she noticed a shaved head that was revealing faint stubble. And to her complete shock, the mask was missing. In its place was a perfectly acceptable human face visible in the room's dim light.

Stella felt her heart stop. She recognized the soft, pale eyelashes lying against his cheek, but the area that had been covered by the mask was strictly undiscovered country, and quite a landscape in itself. There were long lines of faded, age-old injuries and repairs to his lips and cheeks. His nose had been broken, but it wasn't the first thing Stella noticed about him. What struck her most was Bane's generous mouth, an unexpected feature given his fearsome appearance while wearing the mask. So fascinated was she by his heart-shaped aperture that she didn't notice the scars at first.

Yet the scars told a story that she was desperate to know. She knew so very little of him, except for what he had begun to tell her that day in the alleyway. She briefly reminded herself that she was going to have to resume her interview with him if she were ever going to come up with a decent Gotham story.

"Are you sure we won't wake him, Natasha?" she whispered again.

"Positive." Natasha stated in her normal tone of voice. "And… Stella." she smirked. "Don't bother peeking under the sheets, because I put him in scrub pants."

Stella smiled for the first time that day and leaned over Bane's sleeping form to take a closer look, gently grasping his chin in her right hand and resting the pad of her thumb on his lower lip.

"I'll tell you what I think, Stella…" the chatty Natasha continued. "And I'm going to steal from your profession and go 'off the record' as a physician just for a moment. Frankly, I never in a million years expected he'd look like this. Did you?"

Stella blinked, choosing her words carefully. "I'm not surprised at all." She shrugged nonchalantly. "He's attractive with the mask, so why should he be any different without it?"

Natasha smirked to herself as she watched Stella struggle with a rising blush and non-committal-type language, and she could only imagine how the journalist's well-hidden, girly-girl heart was really taking the sight of Bane's face…

"Why do you say he's exhausted, Natasha?" Stella asked, frowning.

"Well, you know I've been experimenting with his dosage, scaling it back at night in the hopes that he'll sleep through the pain. But that has been difficult for him…" Natasha admitted. He and I have decided that we have to consider a new course of pain relief for him. I want him off the inhalant. I don't care what that Talia woman says. Bane has entrusted his medical care to me. I'm the doctor now," the tiny physician said firmly.

"By the way, Barsad has the mask, Stella, in case you were wondering. Now, I'll allow you a few more minutes with him." she said. "And then, I want you to go upstairs and get some sleep."

Natasha retreated to her office as Stella pulled up a chair next to Bane's bedside.

"Bane…" she whispered. "Thank you for what you did for me today. I know you pushed me out of the way when the wall fell…"

She reached over and took hold of his calloused hand, the one that was receiving an I.V. of hydration, nutrients and pain relief.

"What I really want to say is that I'm sorry." She said softly. "…because you didn't want me to go to that house, and you warned me about the danger, and then you were the one who got hurt. And I feel terrible about that…"

Bane's eyelashes fluttered briefly, and Stella held her breath until they stilled once more.

Silently, she committed all of his exposed features to memory. And then she stood up to leave.

"I'm going to go now." She sighed. She'd spent so much of the day talking to him without getting a reply, and she was getting too used to it.

She paused to take one last glimpse of his face, and then very slowly, she leaned over to drop a light kiss on his exposed mouth.

"Goodnight, Sleeping Beauty." She whispered, peering thoughtfully at him as she stroked his cheek with her thumb. She rushed for the exit door, but something stopped her from leaving, and she turned to look at Bane's form as an inner voice spoke.

Stella, now you know you can do better than that. Besides, you may never, ever get this chance again…

With a deep breath and a steely resolve, Stella returned to his bedside, and grasped Bane's head between her two hands. Leaning in, she took his mouth as if it were a juicy peach, lingering in the sweetness before settling into a soft kiss…

Eventually, she released him, wiping her mouth. "Ha! I got you." She whispered triumphantly. "I got you back. And I really am going to go now. So, good night." With that, she darted out the rear door and made her way up to the townhouse.

Hearing the door close behind Stella, Natasha rose to again check on her patient, and was startled by the sight of Bane stirring in his bed.

"Dr. Van Dyne?" he croaked weakly.

"Well hey, Sampson! You're not supposed to be awake. Not with all the drugs I pumped into you." Natasha laughed, shaking her head in disbelief at the resilience of the man. "If only you'd been awake a few minutes ago, you would have seen Stella!"

Frowning, he touched his lips thoughtfully, tasting his lower lip. "She is safe?" he rasped confusedly as he attempted to sit up in the bed.

"Safe and sound. I just sent her upstairs to bed." she nodded, offering him assurances of Stella's safety for the third time that day.

Bane lay back, continuing to stroke and taste his lower lip methodically.

"Are you thirsty? Natasha asked curiously. "Let's get you a drink of water, and then you sleep…"

When Natasha returned with a glass of water she discovered Bane had already rolled over and resumed his deep slumber …

"Honestly, you're full of surprises today, Boss." She said as she left the water and pulled his door shut.

As she entered the hallway to update Barsad, she recognized a patient from the previous day. He was one of Bane's men and was suffering from a mild case of athlete's foot.

"It's Mr. Cooper, isn't it?" She asked.

"I asked you to call me 'Chance'." The man reminded her with a flashing smile.

And as with the previous day, Natasha wondered if Bane recruited Chance Cooper from a Paris fashion runway. It certainly looked that way. With razored black hair that fell to the top of his shoulders, striking blue eyes, and a week-old beard, Cooper was spectacularly handsome and very charming.

In the hallway, Barsad's detail for the day concerned the protection of Bane while he was in Natasha's care. But the situation transpiring outside of Natasha's office also had his eyes and ears. Seething in the darkness at the end of the corridor, he stroked his weapon obsessively as if it were a lover or cherished pet. He'd watched Dr. Natasha Van Dyne and Chance Cooper for the last several minutes, and it was clear Natasha was becoming agitated.

He knew Chance Cooper, the spoiled pretty boy from Harvard who hovered over maps and drawings all day instead of indulging in the hard physical work of the true mercenary. He was one of the engineers Bane recruited as plans for blowing up Gotham's bridges moved forward. And it was clear he didn't have a lot to do now that most of the bridges had been successfully blown…

Why would Bane want to encourage a love match between Natasha and that clown? Barsad wondered angrily. Natasha was far too good for the smarmy bachelor...

"I know Gotham doesn't have much in the way of 'night spots' under Bane's rule, but a few of us mercenaries know of some underground places." he said smoothly. "There's food, music, beer, sex... You interested?" Cooper asked Natasha slyly.

"Nope. And I prefer to keep our relationship strictly professional, Mr. Cooper." Natasha said bluntly. Barsad saw her refusal as a sign, and began his stealthy approach.

"Oh, come on! Why not? I heard all about you from doctors at Gotham General." Cooper assured Natasha. "You were a real hot chick at med school, and you liked to have a good time. "

"Cooper!" Barsad barked as he slipped out of the darkness and pointed his weapon at the engineer.

Cooper jumped at the sight of Bane's second-in-command.

"Okay, Barsad, no harm done, brother. I was just asking the lady to go out with me." He addressed the sharpshooter genially. "I mean, come on... Bane doesn't ban dating…"

"Office hours are over, folks." Barsad said coldly, his eyes focused on the camera-ready engineer. "We have a security issue on this floor and you don't have clearance here."

Natasha smiled at her saviour. "I'm sure Mr. Cooper would appreciate an escort out of the building, Barsad…" she suggested, staring amusedly into the sharpshooter's angry eyes.

"My pleasure, Doc!" Barsad's grin transformed his sober face. "Move it, Cooper!" He ordered as he pushed the handsome engineer into the stairwell.

"But I have Bane's permission to chase her!" Cooper insisted once they were out of Natasha's earshot.

Though shorter in stature than Chance Cooper, Barsad nonetheless grabbed the engineer by his shirt, and slammed him roughly against the stairwell wall.

"Is that so? Well, you don't have my permission to chase her." He sneered.

Despite the events of the day, Stella's fatigue didn't guarantee a good sleep. She endured a terrible night, haunted by visions of her day at the crumbling home of Arthur and Connie Palicki, her now-missing uncle and aunt.

She'd taken Monk's life, and with it she'd taken any possibility of his becoming a better man. She knew she shouldn't feel guilty, but she couldn't help but see herself as the villain in that scenario.

The struggle to free Bane was also forefront in her consciousness, as she fixated on the ups and downs of his rescue.

And she'd been troubled by how she'd changed since Bane captured her. She was now no more an idealistic journalist any more than she was a feminist fashionista. When she looked in the mirror, she saw the despicable GCN reporter Jackie Kent waving back at her.

She rose from her sleepless night, finding nothing clean to wear except an unopened package of men's striped pyjamas and a new pair of athlete's socks. She dressed and went straight down to the kitchen for some of Abraham's strong coffee - and found Bane preparing his English breakfast tea.

Startled, she stared silently at the masked man, overcome by shyness, but so glad he was up and walking around. She remembered his unmasked face and how she'd stolen a kiss. She wondered if somehow he remembered as well…

As Bane picked up his cup, she again wondered how he drank tea. But since she observed him to be a little unsteady, she simply said...

"You're supposed to be asleep, for at least a week".

"I have just heard that same lecture from Dr. Van Dyne." Bane croaked in exasperation. His voice sounded husky and annoyed. "I will shower and then I will sleep off Dr. Van Dyne's damned sedatives. Further, the good doctor will have to come here to observe me, because I prefer to recover on my own cot."

He frowned at the sight of Stella's pallor and dark circles. "Come with me." He ordered as he grabbed her arm and pulled her alongside him to his quarters. "You do not look well, Stella."

"No, and I don't feel well either, Bane." She replied testily. "As if yesterday wasn't hard enough, I didn't sleep last night. My mind kept re-living the events of the day, and how I got mixed up in all of this madness, and I was taking stock of everything that has happened since you took charge, since you blew up the town, since you turned it into a junkyard, since you murdered the mayor and since you released hardened criminals into the street. She sighed deeply, feeling as though she would faint from the sheer effort it took say the words. She was thoroughly exhausted and emotionally spent.

"And then I began to consider what you've done to me!" she hissed. "I'm all over the news because I'm supposedly a traitor to Gotham, I've offered my body to you to get what I wanted. I've killed a man who was going to rape me. I've begged and screamed at people to get them to help me free you, a man who has killed thousands of others. And I barely blink when I watch you kill.

Bane watched Stella with fascination as he allowed her the opportunity to vent her frustrations and anxieties.

"So you tell me... What the hell is happening to me, Bane?" she demanded.

"You certainly don't need me to answer that question." Bane rasped perceptively. "But my observation is that you have begun to understand this world a little better than you did before."

"You know what I should have done?" Stella ranted. "I should have done exactly what Selina did and abandoned you in that rubble. I should have risen to my feet without so much as a 'farewell' or a 'serves you right you son of a bitch', and I should have just run." She rambled, as her dull headache began to pound severely.

Bane quietly absorbed Stella's words. Dr. Van Dyne had described Stella's traumatic race to free him from the rubble of the collapsed house, and he found her runaway thoughts and emotions related to the incident positively riveting.

"You would never do any such thing, Stella." He observed calmly as he eased himself down on his cot. "…because you like me too much."

Stella wasn't shocked by his words, not in the least. Maybe it was because of what had transpired between them, knowingly and unknowingly, in the last 24 hours.

It was the simple answer to everything. It was the reason why she had fought so hard to rescue him. It was why she screamed at Selina Kyle, it was why she killed Monk, and it was why she risked her own life to free him. It was the reason why she'd cried when she felt his pulse in the rubble. And it was most certainly the reason why she'd stolen a kiss from him.

Because she liked him too much.

In response to Bane's smug, but accurate assessment, Stella could barely manage much more than a cynical, fatigued laugh.

"Oh, you would say something like that." She declared dismissively. "Excuse me, but I'm behind on the tabloid."

Bane frowned. "Be seated." he ordered as he patted the space next to him on the cot. "You are too exhausted to work. You must sleep, my dear."

Stella paused, frowning as her eyes became moist. "I'm so sorry..." She said, running her hand through her hair, and wiping her eyes. "I…I just said the most awful things to you."

"Yes, you did." Bane smiled behind his mask. "And I will forgive you just this once."

In her near delirious state, Stella apparently had no anxieties about intimacy with Bane, and she dropped next to him on the cot, leaning on his powerful bicep for support.

"Last night I said some nice things to you, but I don't think you heard me. I…guess you're out of luck for now, because I'm so tired I can't remember what I said. It was 'thank you'… or something like that…." She babbled weakly.

Bane had begun to gently stroke the palm of her hand with his twitchy forefinger, an action that would normally bring a blush to Stella's cheeks if she weren't so exhausted. "Do not concern yourself with details, Stella. We will speak later." He wheezed unconcernedly. "For now you must sleep."

Stella woke to the sound of irregular metallic breathing that she found strangely comforting. She sighed and opened her eyes, finding herself in a fetal position, facing Bane. Instinctively, she raised her free hand and pressed it against his warm, naked chest, accidently meeting the intense gaze of the man who was gently toying with layers of her blonde hair. His brow was furrowed in amusement, as if he'd recently uncovered a secret.

"Good evening." he greeted her amiably.

And Stella realized by the dimness in the room that it was indeed evening.

"What happened?" she was alarmed, and took note of his naked chest, but didn't make an effort to move away from him.

"We were both overcome by sleep, my dear. You were exhausted, and I was under the influence of Dr. Van Dyne's sedatives. We have slept all day, you and I."

Stella sensed an immediate opportunity, and raised herself to her knees, stifling a yawn as she remembered her pressing need to interview him.

"Uhh… I hope you don't see me as being too forward, Bane, but now that I have you alone, do you think we could continue the interview we began that day in the alleyway." She suggested cheerfully.

Bane stared at her for several seconds before finally speaking.

"I am not surprised by your request at all!" he wheezed, his voice ending on a high note. "I now understand even more clearly why you have no husband. This is not the first time I have observed that the minute you find yourself alone with me, you pull out your notepad for protection."

"I have no husband because I don't want one." Stella said bluntly. "And even if I had a notepad with me now, I'd be using it to take notes, not using it as a weapon against you. That is, unless you make me angry enough to hit you again." She said, remembering how she'd swatted him across his mask.

"I was talking about your psychological note pad, Stella." Bane countered. "I have observed that when you fear intimacy, you launch into discussions of your work."

Although Stella was completely unnerved by the accuracy of Bane's claim, she managed to keep control of the conversation.

"You were about to tell me that you had become the guardian of a child…." She prompted him brightly.

Bane allowed the incident to pass, because with Stella installed on his cot and in a very cooperative mood, Bane saw the possibilities for completing their trade. He had done his part in taking her to her family's house, now it was her turn to deliver. He was also very pleased to see that the men's pyjamas she wore could be easily removed…

Bane gently and skilfully pushed her into a reclining position."Well then, let us begin." he said good-naturedly.

Much to Bane's chagrin, Stella eventually moved to his desk, where she had access to a pencil and paper. Bane remained on the cot, relating his story quite willingly. He was much more vague on Gotham details, except for some of the more salacious gossip.

"Talia and I are not, and never have been, lovers." He confirmed at one point. "I will admit there was a time when I believed I loved her, but that time has long passed. I cannot accept her promiscuity, nor do I share her all-consuming desire to avenge her father. Talia has changed since her father died in that she has completely forgotten that she owes her life not to Ra's al Ghul, but to me."

"But if Ra's al Ghul rescued you from the Pit, why don't you share Talia's desire to avenge him?" Stella asked.

"Because he rescued and trained me in a gesture of good will for protecting Talia and her mother. But as time wore on, he saw me as a symbol of his own failure to protect his family. He loathed the sight of my brutalized body, and the fact that I clearly loved Talia revolted him. For these reasons he banished me from the League."

Stella frowned judgmentally, as Bane continued speaking with refreshing candour...

"I do not know if you are interested in my personal opinion, Stella, but I have come to see the man Ra's al Ghul as a miscreant and a coward. If he truly loved the woman he married, then how could he have just walked away without investigating the change in his sentence. If I were the man I would have regarded the sudden change with suspicion. It would appear that escaping a warlord was far more important to Ra's than reuniting with his lovely bride. If I were him, I would have done anything to get that woman back. A coward, indeed."

Stella's lips parted and she sorely wished she was still on the cot with him, because if she had been, she would have thrown her arms around him.

In the next moment they turned their attention to the sound of an exotic woman's voice approaching from the hallway.

"Out of my way, Barsad." The softly musical tone prompted Stella to begin rising from her chair. "I must speak to him!" Talia insisted.

"Stay where you are, Stella." Bane cautioned the blonde journalist quietly. "She will not stay long."

"I feel like I don't know you anymore, Bane…" Talia lisped softly as she sauntered slowly into Bane's room, hands on her hips. She was dressed in her high-end khaki, and from the expression on her face she wasn't at all surprised to see Stella.

"You allow this blonde tramp to lead you into a dangerous situation resulting in injury to yourself. And you turn your medical care over to an unknown, unproven Gotham physician. Have you lost your mind? This was never part of the plan, my friend."

Bane stood up as he normally did when a woman entered the room, despite the ache in his back.

"Perhaps it hasn't occurred to you that I might be preparing for a life without you, my dear." he suggested.

"Then I would be careful of this one, Bane." Talia warned. "She's a trashy journalist, no better than that Jackie Kent out there on the street. She will kiss and tell lies about you in print."

A furious Stella rose out of Bane's chair. "Who are you calling trashy? I'm not the one who fucked Bruce Wayne!" she raged.

Talia slowly approached the desk, and rested the palm of each hand on its surface while directing a black-hearted smirk into Stella's eyes.

There was a long pause before she spoke again.

"Constance died first." she stated coldly as the smirk disappeared. "She insisted I call her Constance, because she did not know me well, and she said she did not care to know me."

Stella remained immobile, but her pencil had dropped to the floor.

_Aunt Connie._

"After that I believe Arthur might have willingly killed himself, except for being so incapacitated by his grief. Poor man, I had to do the deed for him." She added with insincere sympathy.

_Uncle Art._

Talia pulled the knife from her pocket and inspected it carefully before returning her attention to Stella.

"One clean strike and the stomach will bleed and bleed." She said. Her voice was gentle and musical, and faded away in pleased remembrance of her recent handiwork...


	12. Chapter 12

History is Made at Night

by batmanbane

"It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend."

― William Blake

Chapter 12

"Hey there, Browning! If you've been watching my news reports then you must know by now that you're no longer under suspicion for facilitating Bane's entry into Gotham. The FBI and CIA have officially cleared you!"

Stella was leaning against the wreck of a half-ton pick up truck and wearing a headscarf to safeguard her identity, when she noticed reporter Jackie Kent shouting across from her position at the GCN mobile news truck. Stella had originally become a suspect following the ambitious reporter's news story that focused on her allegedly suspicious activities.

"That's just great, Kent! I hope it means I can stop wearing this damned headscarf." Stella called back to her. "But I guess your conscience is clear, isn't it? That is, if you have one. Does it even bother you that a man died because of your story?"

Jackie shook her head emphatically. Of course she'd been shocked when Barsad tossed the body of photographer Larry Crowe at her feet, but like any good journalist, she knew how to rationalize guilt feelings.

"Larry Crowe volunteered that information about you and happily agreed to appear on our talk show. I have nothing to feel guilty about." She answered with a toss of brassy hair. "And as for me exploiting your possible guilt, I was just doing my job. Even you have to admit you were looking awfully guilty for a while there."

"Yea, well. Thanks for nothing. It doesn't matter that I've been cleared. People will still believe what they want to believe." Stella snarled as she shoved her hands into her khaki pockets. "Bitch!" she muttered quietly from behind the scarf that hid her face and hair.

It had been four days since Talia al Ghul proudly took responsibility for the deaths of Arthur and Connie Palicki. The bodies had been recovered shortly thereafter, and Stella was soon in possession of their ashes. But there was no time for mourning. She was hopeful for better times ahead, when she could properly honour the memory of her aunt and uncle. Emotionally, she was a slow-burning fuse, waiting to explode, just like Bane's bomb.

Abraham had confided that Bane had a highly charged discussion with Talia following the incident. According to the ex-football player, Talia murdered the couple as a warning, and confirmed they were already dead by the time Bane and Stella arrived at the Palicki home. She defended her actions by claiming the Divine Right of Talia, and accused Stella and the tabloid of distracting Bane from the plan.

Her meddling had riled Bane.

"We agreed your responsibilities were Wayne, Wayne Enterprises and the detonator." Abraham quoted the masked mercenary as having said. "You had no right to interfere with my work. The ordinary citizens of Gotham are my responsibility."

Meanwhile, Stella hadn't seen Bane since Talia made her confession. Strangely enough, Stella found that she was free to leave the townhouse without guard to explore Gotham and do her usual research.

"Just be back at a reasonable hour." Barsad cautioned her as he waived her into the elevator. "Don't make me come looking for you."

Stella's thoughts were again interrupted by the persistence of Jackie Kent.

"You know, I was really hoping we could be friends…and maybe even work together. You may find this difficult to believe, but I'm human too, Stella. I've got a husband waiting for me in Manhattan, and I want to get back to him. So, why don't you and I team up and figure out what we can do to stop this bomb?"

"We'd have to find the bomb, first." Stella said sarcastically. "And even if we did find it, you'd probably throw me under the bus the minute you had the opportunity to steal across the supply bridge."

"Honestly, Stella. I'm really not your enemy." Jackie protested. "Right now we're just two women talking, okay?"

Stella glared resentfully at the GCN reporter. "Okay..." She shrugged sullenly.

"Now, woman to woman…" Jackie began. "We both know there are ways of persuading men to do our bidding. And the best method of persuasion is usually found in the bedroom, wouldn't you agree?" She asked, grinning lasciviously.

"Just get to the point." Stella demanded, crossing her arms and dreading the coming conversation.

"My point is this…" the redhead continued as she pulled a well-thumbed copy of Gotham Woman out of her Coach bag and began to recite headlines from the magazine's front cover: "Four words that seduce any man; You on top; Bad girl sex."

Jackie paused and arched a meaningful eyebrow at Stella. "It seems to me that you know quite a bit about taking charge in the bedroom, young lady."

Stella could barely contain her scornful laughter. "Those are just fantasies for working girls, Jackie. You know that as well as I. We weren't curing cancer at Gotham Woman."

"Oh, don't be so coy, sweetie!" Jackie said with a knowing smile. "No matter what Bane has done to this town, we all understand the attraction. That body, the stare, and the imperious personality…

"Jackie, get to the point." Stella insisted.

"Alright then, Stella. Admit it — you're sleeping with him!" Jackie's statement suggested she had uncovered a highly prized secret. "At least that's the rumour down here on the street."

Stella's mouth dropped open as her body tingled with pleasure at Jackie's words, and she felt herself growing very hot behind the headscarf. She knew it was wrong, but every fiber of her being was thrilled by the GCN reporter's claim. Stella forced a grimace to conquer the smile that threatened to bloom across her face.

"…Oh, well….that's just peachy!" She complained, faking displeasure. Her protest was contrary to every enjoyable sensation that coursed throughout her body. "I may as well have a target painted on my back. You know, I think I liked it better when I was a traitor." Stella claimed.

"Oh don't you worry about that, dear." Jackie laughed assuredly. "If there's one thing I've learned as a reporter it's that the public adores a love story. So even if there are a few envious females out here, I doubt anyone is going to take a shot at you."

Stella sighed softly. Was it really true that Gotham believed she was sleeping with Bane? Or was Jackie Kent deceiving her in order to manipulate her into somehow helping The GCN reporter escape the bomb?

Stella knew she should have denied the reporter's claim immediately, but instinct told her that something might be gained by playing along with Jackie…for now.

"It has a nice 'Beauty and the Beast' vibe, don't you think? Jackie continued thoughtfully.

"Ouch!" Stella cringed. "You couldn't have picked a more clichéd analogy, Jackie."

"It's clichéd, alright." Jackie agreed cheerfully. "Except that in the Gotham version, the Beast is pretty damn sexy. But you'd know more about that than anyone wouldn't you, Stella?"

She was playing with fire, but already she was enjoying the ride. The rumour actually made her feel special, and she hadn't felt that way in a long time. But at the same time she also felt very exposed, and dreaded the idea of seeing the details splashed all over the news.

In that regard, she had no choice but to appeal to whatever good graces remained within the soul of the GCN reporter.

"Jackie, please… You haven't put the rumour on the air have you?" she implored the redheaded.

"Heavens, no!" Jackie laughed. "I work for GCN, not TMZ! I deal in hard news. And you have my word on that, Stella. My lips are sealed. But I'm not the only media here, so it's likely to find its way into the news sooner or later…

With those words, the curious GCN reporter joined Stella in leaning against the wrecked half-ton pickup.

"Now…" she began good-naturedly as she cuddled up to Stella. "...how about giving this sex-starved reporter a thrill, by telling her what Bane whispers in your ear while he's burying that big cock into you night after night…"

Stella gasped involuntarily, her body shuddering with pleasure at the thoroughly intoxicating image suggested by Jackie Kent. She closed her eyes, nursing a desire for Bane that she could neither erase from her mind nor her body. Uttering a soft sigh, she looked at Jackie apologetically.

"I'm still a bit shy about it all, Jackie. Some other time?" She asked hesitantly, as she made to leave. "I'll see you around."

"Have it your way, sweetie!" Jackie called out to her. "But you think about it. It is possible Bane knows a way to stop the bomb, and if you manage him properly during pillow talk, you might save millions of lives. I'll be here when you're ready to talk, but we don't have forever, you know"

"I know. I'll think about it." Stella replied, her body still throbbing with pleasure at the thought of Bane inside of her...

At City Hall, Stella rested her forehead against the south wall, moaning softly.

Bane was closing in on her. Things had gotten far too comfortable between the two of them. She had to admit her own culpability, given that she'd offered her body to him, and stolen a kiss from him. Now there was a rumour in Gotham that she was sleeping with him, and she liked it. And Jackie Kent had made an excellent point. Stella might be able to convince Bane to give up information that would stop the bomb. That is, if the rumour was true…

"You okay?" Barsad asked concernedly when he found her at the wall.

"I'm digesting a rumour I just heard." She sighed.

Barsad smirked, and paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Don't let it bother you, Stella." He advised her quietly. "People just automatically put two and two together. You're not a traitor, so they decide to turn you into Bane's girlfriend instead." He shrugged.

"Yea, I know. And I get that." Stella said unconcernedly, much to Barsad's surprise. He had expected her to be mortified by the rumour.

"I'll see you at the townhouse later, Barsad. I'm going for a walk."

Upstairs in the mercenary's City Hall office, Barsad's meeting with Bane was winding down.

"Chance Cooper tells me that you threatened him and forced him out of the Daggett building whilst he was paying a visit to Dr. Van Dyne." Bane addressed Barsad sternly. "You know he is the man that I chose for her, so would you mind explaining yourself, Brother?"

"I knew you'd be angry, but the hair stood up on my arm while I listened to that guy smooth-talk Natasha, especially when she refused to go out with him. He behaved improperly towards her, suggesting she had a reputation amongst the doctors at Gotham General."

Bane frowned. "Are you certain, Brother? I had him investigated and there were no strikes against him during his time at Harvard, and his record with us has been exemplary."

"That just means he hasn't been caught yet." Barsad insisted. "I tell you, Boss, I look at that guy and all I see is another Bruce Wayne. Spoiled rotten, treating women as playthings, and disregarding other peoples' feelings. And we should keep our eye on him because he mentioned some underground places known to our men where alcohol and sex are on the menu.

Bane's glittering hazel stare examined Barsad for the longest time. Another Bruce Wayne was unacceptable, especially among Bane's own ranks, and most especially if he were romancing Dr. Van Dyne.

"Very well." He conceded. "Then I shall ask Mr. Cooper to stand down."

"Thank you" Barsad nodded. "If I ever catch that guy buzzing around her again, I'll…" he muttered, stroking his weapon obsessively.

"Barsad…" Bane interrupted him. "You will obtain a divorce from your present wife."

"Oh now, wait just a minute, Bane!" the alarmed lieutenant cautioned him. "I… I'm not about to go walking down the aisle again. I'm just…looking out for Natasha's best interests, you know…"

"That is why I insist upon your divorce." Bane explained. "I have grown quite fond of Dr. Van Dyne, and I do not wish her reputation sullied in any way." Bane said sternly. "She is not to become 'the other woman'. Do I make myself clear?"

"Understood!" Barsad said.

Bane nodded his approval. "And Barsad? I would also like you to investigate those underground establishments you mentioned. The fact that they are "underground" suggests something untoward. I do not mind if my men blow off steam in what little free time they have, but if Chance Cooper or any of my men are profiting from those establishments, I wish to know. Choose your men and track his activities."

Barsad nodded. "With pleasure." He said, energized at the thought of catching the smarmy Harvard graduate in an illegal act.

He didn't know how long she had been standing there, but when Bane looked up from his map, he found Talia al Ghul silently waiting at the entrance of his City Hall office. He wondered why she had not just entered, as was her normal mode of behavior.

She was dressed in League of Shadows finery. Her hair was pulled into a simple braid behind her head, and her make up was minimal. She wore an exquisitely tailored, embroidered wool jacket, along with velveteen leggings and soft, but sturdy boots.

There was nothing provocative about her manner. No suggestive pose, or flirtatious expression on her face. No hint of the calculating sex kitten that he had grown used to seeing on this Gotham mission. No cascade of long, curling hair, or even the scent of Miranda Tate.

This was the look of the girl that she used to be, the child who needed his protection, and the one with whom he was once secretly in love.

Talia remained in the doorway, waiting for him to tower over her, because she needed to be humble before him for the coming conversation.

Bane rose, and returned her stare curiously. Though he'd previously had harsh words with her about the murder of Stella's family, all was forgotten when he saw her troubled expression.

"You are upset." He frowned, instantly dropping his map. "How can I help you, my dear?"

Talia moved silently towards him, took his hand, and started to say the words that she herself still found difficult to believe.

"I… I…" she whispered, and her eyes suddenly became shiny with tears.

Bane quickly became alarmed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her cry. Not only did the sight of her tears unravel him, but it also brought forth emotions within himself that he had suppressed for years. And he didn't like how easily those emotions tumbled into the present time.

"Have I said or done something to hurt you, my dear?" he appealed to her. Whatever affected her, affected him, and he struggled with mounting anxiety, desperate to remain calm for her. What was it she needed to say? Why was she so distraught?

"I'm…" Talia stammered, once again unable to complete her sentence.

Bane gently took her other hand, his heart now pounding with uncontrollable fear.

"You know there is nothing you cannot say to me, little one." he assured her, and all he could see was the little girl she'd once been.

Had she decided that she wanted to live permanently as Miranda Tate? Had she fallen in love? Was she ill? He knew his thoughts were irrational, but when it came to Talia, he couldn't help having those thoughts.

Talia choked on a sob, and Bane felt as if his heart was caught in a vice, slowly being crushed.

It was true. He was the only person in whom she could confide. And yet he didn't know he was also the last person to whom she wanted to say what was necessary to say.

"Bane…" she began again, as a single tear rolled down her cheek and then continued its journey between two of his knuckles.

I… I am with child."

Bane blinked. He heard the words. He understood them on the surface, and the surface was where they remained until they began to sink into his soul.

Wide-eyed, he slowly began to process her statement as a searing cocktail of anger, fear and jealousy began to rip through his body.

His head began to spin, and he felt as though he had tumbled into the abyss of the Pit. He could feel his heart pounding furiously, but he forced himself to stabilize in order to ask the inevitable question.

"Bruce's child?" his voice shook through the mask as he fought to control his breathing.

"Yes…" she whispered, as she squeezed his hands. Her expression was one of deep remorse and humility. There was silence for quite some time as they stared wordlessly at one another.

"And… you are certain?" He asked robotically.

"Yes. Dr. Quest has confirmed my condition."

Bane's fists clenched in quiet anger.

"Has Dr. Quest never advised you on the subject of contraception?" he growled, his voice beginning to give way to the anger he was feeling, his eyes cold and hard.

"I have never used contraception, Bane." Talia admitted. "Despite the numerous chances I've taken, I've never become pregnant until now. It's why I believe this child is my destiny."

"There is no such thing as destiny, Talia!" Bane exploded in anger. "And it is no wonder you find yourself with child, because you do not live in the real world." He seethed, pacing back and forth before her.

"Try to remain calm, my friend…" she whispered softly. "I know I have hurt you, and it breaks my heart." She said softly. She herself was calmer now that the difficult part of telling him had passed, and she had begun to think on her feet.

"I cannot die. This child cannot die." She said. "Don't you see? I honour my father by bearing the child of his enemy, and raising him to the leadership of the League. It will be the best vengeance of all."

"This child cannot die?" Bane mocked her. "I have murdered hundreds of Gotham children, and I have done it for you, because I am sworn to you. Your enemy is my enemy. I broke Bruce's back and put him in the Pit for you, and now you tell me you are going to bear his child? "

Bane recognized his jealousy, but it wasn't a sexual jealousy. For as long as he could remember, he and Talia only had each other, even during Bane's time with the League of Shadows. She was his only family. In and out of the Pit, they relied on one another, trusted one another, and protected one another. She was the buffer against the reality of his injuries and the mask he needed to survive, as well as the rejection he felt after his ex-communication.

She was a handful at times, but he loved her without reservation. Would she love him as much as she ever did, now that she had this child who would be more important to her? And where would that leave him?

Bane already knew the answer. He would be alone…pushed aside in favour of the Wayne love child.

He had not been alone since before Talia was born, and the thought of that loneliness reduced him to a despair akin to what he had suffered after being brutalized in the Pit.

"I understand your feelings, Bane." Talia said plaintively. "Please don't abandon me now. I will need you in the coming months. And I need you to remove Bruce from the Pit, because he must live to suffer the agony of knowing his child is being groomed to be his enemy."

"I am not your trained monkey." Bane snarled coldly. "Sometimes I think you forget that."

Talia felt his hard, angry stare, but thought it wise not to engage in an argument with him. Instead, she responded to his angry outburst with a motherly smile.

"I must leave you now to consult with Lucius Fox." She said in a soft, musical tone as she stroked his back affectionately. "All will be well, Bane. You'll see. Sleep on it, you will feel better in the morning." She reached up to kiss him on the exposed part of his cheek, and was gone…

Bane groaned helplessly, and settled himself into his chair. He rested his elbows on his knees, and stared at the floor for an undetermined length of time.

What if she had lied to him? What if she actually intended to conceive Bruce's child? He knew her better than anyone, and she was certainly not above such subterfuge.

She had asked him to retrieve Bruce from the Pit, supposedly so the man could suffer knowing that his own child was being raised as his enemy. What if her real plans were simpler? To set up housekeeping with him, or wed him...?

He rose from his chair and paced, as he mind-mapped all the ways Talia could deceive him. His fury mounted, and he decided to take a walk. It was time to visit the scene of the crime…

It wasn't the first time Stella had broken into a house. She'd initially done so as a journalism student in order to pursue a story. She wasn't proud of it, and she was lucky she wasn't caught.

But now she was about to do it again, with no moral constraints. When she walked around this huge property, she discovered a shuttered window ajar. Forcing it, she squeezed into the fabled Wayne Manor. Inside, she dropped to the floor to find herself in a room where large items of furniture had been covered to protect them in the absence of any housekeeper.

Stella thought it very strange that the wealthy Bruce Wayne apparently didn't invest in a security system, and she marveled at how easy it had been to enter the property.

Once inside, she removed her boots, just in case there was a security guard somewhere on the property who could hear her footfalls. She walked out of the massive room with its covered furniture and entered a long, wide hallway. She was astounded by Wayne's collection of fine art pieces, which sat openly on shelves for his guests to admire.

But the house was quiet. Almost too quiet, which made her very suspicious. Was she imagining it when she thought she heard the reverberations of the mask?

Before she had time to react, a muscular arm whipped around her waist and pulled her roughly against his massive frame.

Him.

Stella's shriek of surprise echoed throughout the house. She gripped his arm and struggled fiercely against him, thrusting her head back in an effort to speak to him. His chin was resting on her shoulder, as the mask wheezed unsteadily.

"Let go!" Stella insisted breathlessly. "You're hurting me." Bane was radiating intense body heat, and something else. Goosebumps travelled the length of her body in response to the sensation of Bane's hardened manhood against her backside.

When he finally released her, the effect was so sudden that she catapulted across the floor, landing on her hands and knees several feet in front of him.

He made no attempt to help her stand, but stared her down as he began to release the fastenings of his bullet-proof vest. He growled softly, approving of Stella's submissive stance, however temporary it might be.

She returned his intense gaze and felt a pleasurable stirring in her belly. But those stirrings didn't prepare her for the words that followed.

"You coat your mouth in a peppermint flavoured substance." Bane observed with an irritable rasp. He took a step forward so he could further enjoy his domination over her.

"Did you think I would never know what you did that night, Stella?" he asked in a ruthless tone that completely unnerved her...


	13. Chapter 13

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's been a while since I posted Chapter 12, so a little refresher is in order: After Bane learns Talia is pregnant by Bruce Wayne, he visits the scene of the crime at Wayne Manor, and finds Stella snooping around. Talia's news has put him in a very bad mood, so he manhandles Stella and haughtily demands to know if she thought she could get away with kissing him while he was under sedation. ;)

History is Made at Night

by batmanbane

Chapter 13

Stella blinked nervously. "No, I honestly expected to be caught in the act, and it even crossed my mind that you were only pretending to be asleep. But, Natasha was certain you were out cold. I kissed you in retaliation for all the times you've touched me without my permission." She said, raising herself to her knees. And because I was curious. She admitted silently to herself.

"I do not require your permission." Bane scoffed, hovering ominously. "I will touch you wherever and whenever it pleases me." Pacing a circle around her, he stopped to grasp her chin and penetrated her with cold eyes.

"Leave it to you…" she exclaimed with an arched brow. "Always changing the rules."

"Don't be impertinent, woman. For all I know, you might have been my own private Delilah, come to relinquish me of my strength." He murmured. "You might have sabotaged my intravenous line…or smothered me with a pillow… "

"How dare you compare me to a Biblical temptress!" Stella complained, insulted by Bane's suggestion. "You should know by now that you can trust me!"

"Trust is a sham, Madam. Even Dr. Van Dyne has disappointed me by allowing you to see me unmasked." His punishing tone of voice unnerved her, but she fought back.

"Do you want to know what I think? I think you're pissed because you slept through my kiss. You wouldn't even have known if you hadn't tasted my lip balm. And you're sorry because you missed out."

Bane's pupils darkened at her taunt. It was true that he had experienced a myriad of thoughts and emotions since learning of her kiss, the most significant being his regret at having slept through it. Because of the mask, a kiss was not easily engineered. And since Stella didn't freely give her affections away, he had clearly missed a golden opportunity.

"As much as I would enjoy punishing you for your transgression in the doctor's office, I have had my heart set on the completion of our business." He admitted menacingly. "You will recall that in return for safe passage to the home of your aunt and uncle, you very charmingly offered me your body…"

Stella nodded as her stomach clenched.

"So that's what this big show is all about!" She sighed, swallowing hard as she peered up at him anxiously.

"Up, Up! On your feet!" He growled, his finger twitching in a circular motion. "We will conclude our business now."

"No!" she said obstinately, as butterflies rose in her stomach. "I will not get up, because I don't like your attitude."

"No?" Bane mocked her. "Very well then …" With lightning speed his hand reached down to grip her roughly around one slender ankle, and he made for the staircase at the end of the hall, dragging the outraged journalist along the floor behind him like a sack of potatoes.

Thoroughly humiliated, she twisted and turned helplessly, pounding her fists on the floor.

"You let go of me! Stop it right now!" she screamed, her voice echoing throughout the spacious mansion.

"This can't be happening to me…" she whined, covering her face with her hands. "It's so degrading…"

Bane stopped, but maintained his grip on her ankle, deliberately stroking the soft skin of her inner leg with slow, repetitive sweeps of his calloused thumb. It was an action against which she had no resistance.

"Bane, please don't…" she sighed, her voice trembling as her entire body bloomed at his touch.

"Stand then." He ordered, enjoying the sound of her soft sighs. "Or I will touch you in a far more intimate place."

From her prone position, she felt hopelessly awkward as she stared up into the masked man's fascinated eyes. Why on earth had she ever offered her body to him? The moment of truth had arrived and she simply had no idea how to behave…

Picking herself off the floor, she rubbed her sore backside. Bane took her hand, and they ascended the staircase to the second level. His ravenous expression left her weak at the knees, but she was determined to keep her head.

"Which way?" she demanded, her facial expression that of a soldier about to face a firing squad.

"Straight ahead to the end of the hall." Bane replied. "The manservant's quarters will be appropriate for our needs. The sheets are made of cotton, you see."

Stella passed her hand along a wall of shelves, perusing pottery pieces, masks and hand-carved items on display in the hall. Nearby, Bane affected a patient stance, allowing her to indulge her curiosity as his arms rested in front of him, fingertips touching.

Turning to look at him, Stella said, "You don't have to worry. I'm going to give you what I owe you because we have an agreement, and I always keep my word." She said, carefully inspecting a blue and white pottery bowl that she had lifted from the shelf.

Her voice rose significantly with her next words.

"But since you're in such a rotten mood, I'm not going to make it easy for you." Still enraged by the way he had dragged her across the floor, she fired the bowl at Bane, striking him squarely in his bulletproof vest. The bowl splintered into a hundred pieces and fell to the floor around him.

Bane wasn't the least bit startled by the action, and once the pottery dust settled, a gleeful expression took hold in his eyes. Stella's stomach dropped again as she realized she had only encouraged him.

"Just don't expect second helpings, because you won't get any!" she fumed, her voice shaking.

Calmly, he removed his protective vest and back brace, and peeled off his black shirt as he slowly swaggered toward her. He was naked from the waist up, a sight that excited Stella more than she cared to admit.

"By all means…open fire." He rasped, daring her to pitch a breakable item at his bare chest. His hazel eyes gleamed with victory and lust.

As angry as she was, Stella knew she could never intentionally draw blood. Backing away from him reluctantly, she fired a delicate teacup at the floor in frustration. "I hate you! Damn you for finding me and making me work for you!"

Bane's mask emitted a guttural rumble akin to cruel laughter, his fingers twitching in anticipation of his prize. In one elegant sweep he took hold of her waist and tossed her over his left shoulder, carrying her through the double doors of Alfred Pennyworth's suite.

Standing her on the floor near the edge of the bed he said, "I have come to realize that it is woman's lot to cater to man. Woman was never intended to be a journalist, or a doctor or a Demon Head. Educating a woman will only lead to her future treachery and betrayal. Her place, therefore, is in the bedroom, pleasing the master at all times."

Stella couldn't help but launch into a maniacal giggle, which thankfully eased her fear. "I think you've been inhaling too much of your pain killer. Maybe that's what put you in such a terrible mood." The giggle soon turned into unabashed laughter. "Come on, I know you don't really believe that nonsense."

Bane frowned, and backed her up to the edge of the bed. "Remove this…" He ordered her gruffly as his phallic finger gestured towards her khaki jacket. "… and your trousers!"

As Stella reluctantly began to untie her camouflage pants, there came a loud pounding on the front door downstairs, followed by the familiar voice of Barsad.

"Bane!" he called. "Are you up there, brother? We found one of those underground establishments you asked us to investigate, and it's a hot one. Chance Cooper is stealing supplies from us, so we have him right where we want him. Care to join us in a raid?

Bane stared guiltily at Stella while he made a quick, mental decision.

Since the fall of Gotham, life inside the city had been uneventful. Apart from the continuous work of Crane's Court and the carrying out of sentences on ice, the city was relatively quiet. Even Blackgate criminals were bored. Bane had come to realize that the inmates weren't so keen about committing crimes when they had permission to do so. They showed far more enthusiasm when law enforcement was breathing down their necks. Only the citizens of Gotham showed any real interest in crime, because breaking the law was so new to most of them.

But now, here was a chance for Bane to investigate a crime committed by one of his own men, against his own men, and the thought energized him.

"I'm regretful Stella, but our business must wait." He stated quietly as he pulled on his black shirt and boots, and buttoned his Belstaff jacket.

"Wait for me, brother!" He shouted enthusiastically.

"Are you going off to murder people?" Stella asked suspiciously as she stepped into her boots. She could read the amusement in his eyes that followed her question.

"Of course!" he chirped as he moved down the stairs. "You will remain here until I return."

"No I won't remain here! It's not very flattering to me when you up and run because you suddenly have a better offer."

Bane dropped his head, sighing in frustration.

"For a woman who thus far has lacked the enthusiasm to complete our business arrangement, you take surprising offense." He rumbled, observing her curiously.

When Stella didn't answer, he continued speaking.

"Someone is trying to disrupt the careful order I brought to this city, Stella. I have worked for years, and at great risk to establish that order. And so it is my duty to stamp out those who try to profit from it. Now, apparently you are bothered by my choosing Barsad over you. It seems I misjudged you when I assumed reluctance on your part. For that I deeply apologize. I was wrong. And I promise you, my dear, I will make it up to you." He babbled.

Astounded by the words spilling out of his mask, he wondered if Stella believed a word he spoke. He thought he sounded like an American husband attempting to pacify his unhappy wife.

"You're so full of shit, Bane. And I don't know why I listen to you. Now, let me go with you? Just this once?"

"These are clubs with long histories." Barsad explained. "The one we're crashing is situated below an early 20th century bank building. Access is through the north wall, in the back of the vault. In the last century, it was a speakeasy, a beatnik hangout and a discotheque. The currency has always been whatever was or is illegal: alcohol, marijuana, mind-altering drugs. Recently the space was the site of all night rave parties, where Gotham kids got hooked on chrystal meth. That is… until our arrival shut them down.

Barsad continued his litany of information. "Chance Cooper ran clubs at Harvard, but if he got into trouble he had powerful friends. As you know, Bane, his record is spotless. By the way, there is no signage anywhere for the club. It thrives by word of mouth and is known by its regulars as 'The Dent Club'.

"Good work, Barsad." Bane said, pleased with his second-in-command.

"Don't thank me, Bane. Thank Abraham. I've had him working undercover at The Dent Club for days, and he's the guy who discovered all the dirty laundry. It seems Cooper has a trusted circle of people working for him. He has spotters on the supply bridge who skim off the goods as they come across: alcohol, tobacco, groceries, prescription drugs. He also accepts a delivery of weapons every week.

"I did not authorize further shipments." Bane said angrily.

Of course you didn't, brother. But Cooper has a contact at Harvard who ships him guns. He supervises the delivery personally. It's almost as if he's stockpiling for his own war.

Bane was troubled by Barsad's information. He had trusted the brilliant young engineer enough to choose him as a potential husband for Dr. Natasha Van Dyne. And now he felt foolish.

"But that's not all." Barsad continued. "Cooper corrals attractive women from Crane's court and gives them the choice of either sentencing or prostitution. He puts them to work at the club and charges $200 per girl. The girls get twenty bucks for every john, and he pockets the rest."

Thoroughly disgusted, Bane laid out his plan. "Put a man at the door and don't allow any more guests inside. Brother, you and I will remove Cooper's guards at the top of the stairs, and assume their places, backed up by our men." He then turned to address Stella, who was sitting in the back seat of the tumbler, listening intently.

"I would like you to enter the club and engage Mr. Cooper in conversation so that we may acquire more information. Barsad will wire you so we are able to listen. Can you do that for us, Stella?"

"Of course I can do that." She said assuredly. "I'll do anything to help those women. Just show me the way in…"

The Dent Club's noisy patrons consisted equally of Blackgate inmates and curious Gotham citizens. There were also quite a few mercenaries, who obviously lived for the moment rather than worry about Bane discovering what they were up to. Stella had barely arrived and seated herself at an empty booth, when a number of shady characters with dishonourable intensions swarmed her. They retreated quickly when a very handsome man approached. She knew by the black hair and blue eyes that he was Chance Cooper.

"Good evening, Miss. New around here, aren't you?" He asked perceptively.

She immediately launched into her act, rolling her eyes and turning away from the stunning young mercenary.

"Wait a minute." He pressed further, snapping his fingers. "I know you. You're... you're the journalist – Bane's chick!"

Stella turned to look at him with a sour expression. "I suppose you could call me that. The name's Stella. And I'm kinda mad at Bane at the moment…"

"Well then, you've come to the right place." He said, as he squeezed into the seat next to her. "Welcome to 'The Dent Club'. My name is Chance Cooper, I'm one of Bane's trusted men, and I run this place."

"Oh really?" Stella huffed. "I've been here two minutes already. Now, what does it take to get a drink around this joint?"

"Is red wine okay?" Cooper asked amusedly as he gestured to the grizzled mercenary behind the bar. Instantly a bottle of Cesare Mara and two glasses were brought to the booth.

Stella passed her fingertip along the greasy tabletop.

"You need a housekeeper in this place. This table is gross…" she complained, revealing a very soiled finger to Chance.

"Ahem…my apologies, sweetheart." He said with a brilliant smile. "We're doing better every day. We've been launching a few clubs around town, and we're still ironing out the kinks. Now, what brings a hot gal like yourself to The Dent Club?" He asked, easing closer to her.

Stella poured herself a full glass of wine and gulped it all down, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

From his perch, Bane's brow quivered, and Barsad whistled as he pulled away from his scope to address the masked man. "Did you watch her toss back that drink?"

"Well…" Stella began. "We were…um… about to go to bed when one of his men showed up. Bane chose to go off on some late night mission and left me alone." She pouted. The story was accurate except for the part about Bane leaving her alone.

"So I did interrupt something. I thought so…" the sharpshooter muttered as he glanced at Bane.

Cooper flashed another grin. "Well, I have to be honest, Stella. Even though he tried to fix me up with his doctor, I never figured Bane for the romantic type. He wouldn't wear that Halloween mask if chicks were his priority. I would think the only thing that gives him a hard-on is mercenary work. But then… Jackie insists you two are in bed together…

Stella grimaced. "Jackie Kent comes here?"

"Oh yea!" Chance bragged. Now, she's a valued client."

"A client?" Stella asked sarcastically.

"It's more respectful than referring to our guests as 'customers', wouldn't you say?"

Stella smiled patronizingly. Leaning back into the booth as if she owned it, she addressed him confidently.

"You sure run a class joint, Chance! Mind if I ask what service you provide to Jackie?"

Chance Cooper's vacant grin never wavered. "Booze." He answered bluntly. "The woman is an alcoholic. She pays. I provide."

Although she was no fan of Jackie Kent, Chance's callous remark made Stella feel ill, and she understood why Barsad expressed such a deep dislike for him.

"So, if you're one of Bane's 'trusted men' then where are you getting the alcohol from? Stealing from the supply bridge?" She asked bluntly.

"Uh-uh…" Chance cautioned. "I have to watch what I say around you, Stella, otherwise you'll take information to Bane, won't you?"

"I told you…I'm mad at him right now. I'm not gonna tell him anything. And you know why? Because I've decided I like you, Chance…and I think I'm gonna like coming here. You're smart, gorgeous, and I'll bet you're a good kisser. God knows, I need to get away from him and his greedy hands, and have a good, stiff drink every now and then."

Chance drummed out a tune on the tabletop with the palms of his hands, easily flattered by Stella's words.

"Well thank you, Sunshine!" He grinned. "It's not really stealing. Call it 'redistribution'. For example, alcohol is against the religion of many of Bane's guys. So why shouldn't I place it where it does the most good – in my clubs? At a premium, of course. As for tobacco, most of the goons from Blackgate are hardcore smokers, so I redistribute cigars and cigarettes to them… for a price."

"I shall take great pleasure in crushing this man's windpipe." Bane observed from his hiding place. "He is a capitalist to rival Bruce Wayne."

Once again, Barsad turned from his scope to address Bane.

"I would be honoured if you would allow me to shoot this man, brother."

Bane nodded, understanding. "I had forgotten that you must defend the honour of Dr. Van Dyne against this hoodlum. I heartily agree and hand the task over to you, Barsad."

Barsad broke into a smug grin at the thought of taking out the handsome engineer.

From her seat at the booth, Stella scanned the room, and caught the sidelong glance of Abraham who was seated nearby with an untouched glass of beer in front of him. He nodded slightly when their eyes met.

"Now, tell me all about yourself, Chance." She insisted. "How did a gorgeous guy like you get mixed up with a bunch of thugs with broken noses and tattoos?"

"I was actually working for John Daggett. I'm an engineer with a background in explosives, and when Bane started doing business with Daggett, he hired me on to his Gotham demolition team. Hey, you know what? I'll tell you a secret." He said leaning even closer to her. "I've never had an orgasm as big as the one I had when we blew those bridges."

From above, Barsad groaned. "Permission to shoot him now, boss!" he deadpanned.

"Mmmm." Stella winked. "Maybe I can help you with that sometime."

"I'm certainly counting on you to try …" Chance smirked.

Bane lurched violently in his perch. "This man is to be taken alive!" he growled angrily. "I want to know everything about his covert activities. Abraham! Remove Stella before that traitor makes another move on her." He seethed.

"Leave her in, Bane." Barsad cautioned him. "She's doing a great job."

As if on cue, Stella became all business. She had become about as friendly with the self-aware mercenary as she wanted to be.

"I should go before he gets back." She said feigning worry. "Otherwise, he'll come looking for me, and I don't want the bruises that come with that."

She dug into her pocket in search of the cash Barsad had given her. "How much for the glass of wine, honey?"

"It's on the house, Stella, seeing as this is your first visit."

"Oh no!" Stella protested. "I always pay my own way, Chance. Now how much?"

"Twenty-five dollars" he smiled shamelessly.

"Twenty-five dollars! Where do you think we are anyway? Vegas? How much for the whole bottle?"

"Well, this is it, Stella. Some supplies are hard to come by, so there's that pesky premium..." Cooper stalled.

"Cough it up, lover." She demanded. "How much?"

"For this vintage, the price per bottle is one hundred and forty dollars."

She shoved twenty-five dollars cash into Chance's breast pocket and said, "Sorry, no tip."

"Not a problem, Stella." the engineer smiled. "And hey, you've given me a great idea. Ever since Bruce Wayne disappeared, Bane is THE celebrity in Gotham, and if he showed up at my club for a drink, he'd give me massive street credibility! Do you think you could sweet-talk him into showing his mask around here?"

"You don't hear so good." Stella observed sharply. "I told you, I'm mad at him. I'm not gonna be sweet-talking him anytime soon! Besides, you should worry about him finding out about this place!"

"Actually, I'm not really all that worried…" Chance bragged, "because I've got nine lives. I've got an ace in the hole!"

Bane decided he'd heard enough. In the next moment, a heavy rope dropped from the ceiling, and he shimmied down to the floor at high speed, followed by several of his men.

"Mr. Cooper! He rumbled gleefully once his feet had hit the ground. "I am very pleased to make an appearance in your club, although not in the context you would have wished for. Abraham, take him into custody."

The crowd in the club dispersed noisily, fearful of the masked man.

"Well, shit!" Cooper swore as Abraham fitted him with zip cuffs. "Don't tell me you aren't making sure that your men have balanced diets while they're here, and that you're not taking food that's meant to be equally shared between the people of Gotham and the police!"

"I won't deny it." Bane admitted. "The difference between us is that I am not profiting by it. When I arrived here, I put Gotham on a righteous path by placing it in the hands of the people, but your efforts will only result in restoring the old Gotham, a decadent city run by a wealthy elite."

Bane settled his eyes on Stella. "Get everyone out of here! Quickly!" he snarled to his men.

As the room emptied, he took cautious steps toward her, examining her with increasing amusement. He'd seen a side of her that he never knew existed, and he approved.

"I enjoyed your performance very, very much." He complimented her quietly. "Had I known of your skills, I would have used you as my femme fatale far earlier than this. You will do this for me again sometime?"

Stella swallowed hard. Why was she so reluctant to sleep with him? Just because a couple of bad boyfriends had sworn her off sex? Wasn't it time to forget it and just trust him?

She couldn't speak because she was breathing heavily, and she was beginning to realize that watching Bane in action was key to her attraction to him. Seeing him travel down the rope, his very presence causing the room to cower in fear, and the mocking tone he used with Chance Cooper had triggered an emotional and physical response within her. Her body was tingling all over and shivering with pleasure. She was burning for him.

"Bane…" she managed to whisper.

Before she knew it, she was in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, back slammed up against a nearby wall. Her camouflage pants were being torn away.

"Bane, what are you – OH!" Stella gasped as Bane drove into her, and she held on to him for dear life as she realized what was happening.

Upon hearing her sharp intake of breath, he commanded, "Breathe, Stella. Breathe again, and again."

Upon her third exhale, he drew her buttocks forward and pushed deeper into her. A long squeak escaped her throat, followed by a tremulous sigh, and Bane smiled possessively.

For the moment, he was content to remain still; he wanted to give her time to acclimate before he began the completion of their business.

"I promised you that I would make it up to you." he murmured.


	14. Chapter 14

History is Made at Night

by batmanbane

"Licence my roving hands, and let them go

Before, behind, between, above, below."

― John Donne, The Complete English Poems

 

Chapter 14

 

The only light source in the Dent Club came from the burning candles placed on the tabletops. Stella was grateful that in the dimness, Bane might not notice her blushes in the low light. She'd literally been rendered speechless by his bold calling card. The massive man had rudely filled her, and she was unsure about accommodating his next move.

She gasped, alternately thrilled and uncertain as her body adjusted to his intrusion. Bane caught her ambiguous expression, and a thought occurred to him.

"You fear me." he rasped concernedly.

She gripped him tightly, struggling to keep hold of him in their awkward position against the wall. "No! That's not it at all." She insisted. "I fear me."

Frowning thoughtfully at her words, he pulled out of her abruptly, leaving her gasping in a state of confusion...

"What now — ?" she breathed in exasperation. The time had come, and she wanted this thing to happen between them, no matter how fearful she might be that they both could be disappointed.

"Forgive my initial fervor, Stella. I am eager for you, but I have no wish to fail you, as did your former lovers. You deserve greater consideration." He lifted her with his strong arms and lowered her to a nearby dusty day-bed.

Shrugging himself out of his Belstaff jacket, he sat down on the edge of the bed, removing his boots, and hers.

Stella tried desperately to quell the butterflies in her stomach. "Don't be surprised if this doesn't work out between us." She stammered, half apologizing. "I'm far too impatient and results-oriented. I honestly get more 'bang' out of a well-written magazine piece."

A wicked gleam danced in Bane's hazel eyes as he digested her words and cavalierly tossed her boots to the floor.

"But Stella, you know I can rescue you from all that." He rumbled. His large hand gripped her ankle for the second time that night, pulling her near. "Stop assuming that you will fail. You seek gratification, and I am the man to give it to you. Do not fear — I will consummate our business, and deliver you to the kingdom that is the right of every woman."

Her blush deepened, and her heart pounded with the nearness of him. She'd told him many times that she didn't need rescuing — and now she was dumping her sexual problems right into his lap. And yet she couldn't help but be amused by his words. She'd ceased to be annoyed by his rampant ego, but this latest boast demanded a response.

Grinning widely, she raised herself onto her elbows to scold him.

"Is that a promise? Because I may never get to the kingdom if you don't stop talking."

"Mock me if you must, woman. My chauvinism will be your redemption." He whispered darkly as his large hand firmly returned her to the surface of the daybed.

Had he felt the goose bumps rising on her skin when he took hold of her ankle? Stella exhaled a nervous breath, and her eyes gleamed with the thrill of a dare. "Well, get on with it then." She ventured, reaching up to lay her palms flat against his wide, hard chest. "You can start by removing this shirt, which is very attractive by the way, but I need to see what's underneath…"

Bane eagerly pulled the black shirt over his mask, kicked off his cargo pants and moved over top of her. That left Stella gasping at his naked beauty - all the while trying to avoid staring directly at his erect manhood.

Reaching behind her, Bane freed her blonde hair from its ponytail, and dispatched her jacket as buttons flew in all directions. She was left with a thin t-shirt, which he tore straight up the middle with two rough hands. He was thrilled to see that she wore no undergarments. "Thank you…" he murmured into her ear. "No clasps, straps or lace to interfere with our work. And your body is exactly as I imagined. Pale and soft, with lovely hips…"

Bane rolled onto his side as his rough, right fingertip began a slow journey from her collarbone to her breasts. He scooped them up, kneading them greedily as her nipples hardened. Stella felt his breath against her stomach when he began to trace slow circles around it, and she shuddered involuntarily.

"Your ex-lovers did not satisfy you here." He stated, reading her mind as he methodically stroked the delicate area below her belly. He held Stella's gaze as his fingertip produced wave after wave of sighs from her.

Trance-like, she stared into the eyes of her soon-to-be lover. Already he was making good on his boast, because the simple stroke of his fingertip felt positively glorious.

"No…no they didn't." she whispered, reaching up to embrace the soft, flushed skin above his mask.

Watching her eyes flutter shut, he smiled. "Tell me about your ex-lovers… How did they disappoint you?"

Her eyes immediately flew open and she flashed him an annoyed look. It occurred to her to again ask him to stop talking, but she also suspected that affirmation of the sexual incompetence of her past boyfriends would encourage him to get on with it.

Laughing softly she asked, "You mean, your competition, don't you?"

Bane frowned, moving closer so that Stella could feel his erection pressing against her thigh.

"Yes…" he conceded cautiously.

Rising up on her elbows again, she looked him directly in the eye and said, "Adam was a battering ram, and Jason couldn't last more than a minute or two. Nothing they did ever felt good."

Bane frowned, and eased her down to the bed again. "Not only have Adam and Jason failed you as lovers, but they have also given you reason to doubt yourself. If I had them here now I would kill them both." He resolved. "However, I am grateful to them for leaving you to me …" he nodded as his exploratory finger continued in search of her secret spot. He found it easily, gently coaxing it until pleasure surged to the place where her old boyfriends had left her wanting.

Whimpering, Stella swatted his hand away. His touch was sweet torture, but she feared she would come far too early and not have anything left.

"Bane, don't!" she gasped. Feverishly, she gripped the edges of the daybed as Bane ignored her protests and continued to service her. Her sensations mounted, and Stella had an out-of-body experience as her body convulsed, and her orgasm soon followed. Her very surprised eyes shone as she caught Bane's pleased expression.

Speechless, she raised herself again, placing her lips against the pulse in his neck. His skin was damp all over, and he had not even begun the hard work yet. Her fingers travelled down his warm chest, gently squeezing when she reached his abdominals. She felt his sharp intake of breath as his body quivered beneath her touch.

Bane shut his eyes in an attempt to control his breathing. Slipping his digit inside her, he began to explore her with a slow, steady rhythm.

"You've always been curious about my lovers…" Stella gasped, feeling the wonderful pleasure beginning to mount again. "so...how many lovers have you had?"

Hearing her question, he exhaled a low, metallic laugh that provoked Stella to come a second time. "Now you are talking too much." he rasped playfully. He had no intention of answering her question...

"I…I hate you." she declared frantically, though her eyes mirrored far different emotions. "I'll bet you have a harem!" She accused irrationally.

Bane smiled again. His body was aching for hers and he couldn't hold back much longer. "You really are delightful." He rumbled amusedly. "You don't hate me!" More metallic laughter followed as he rolled over top of her.

She was intoxicated by his proximity. The scent of leather and gunpowder, the strong, steady heartbeat, the rhythmic wheeze of the mask and the feel of his warm skin clinging to hers – all conspired to bring about her surrender. And after two orgasms, she was starving for the big one...

"Bane, just…" she begged, and the remainder of her request was delivered in very un-Stella like language.

Thoroughly aroused by her crude command, Bane snarled. Pinning her hands, he plunged into her, his eyes gripping hers as he pushed inside.

Stella broke their gaze, arching her back to receive him, and sighed ecstatically as she watched his erection sink into her.

When Bane had pushed inside her as far as he could, he closed his eyes and exhaled a long, grateful wheeze, freeing her hands. She had been well worth the wait. He gripped sections of her loose blonde hair, staring down at her with concerned, inquisitive eyes.

She nodded in affirmation, feeling her body struggle to adjust to his size. "Go on…" she nodded.

Lifting her backside, he began a slow, thorough passage inside her. Stella gripped the edges of the bed as pleasures unknown tore through her...and then Bane paused.

"Shall I continue..?" He asked, his voice heavy with arousal. He recognized that he was teasing her, which was something he didn't normally do unless he was about to kill...

She could feel the soft blasts of his metallic breath touching her collarbone as he continued to slide in and out of her. "Yes!" she yelped, lost in the agonizing pleasure of his strokes as she squirmed helplessly beneath him.

In the next moment he flipped them both over. Gripping her tightly, he fitted her over him, and ran his hands possessively over her hips.

Stella hollered repeatedly, loving the new position. Squeezing her thighs desperately, she gripped and grinded him in tandem.

Ecstatic with her actions, Bane's hands moved from her hips, squeezing her thighs to encourage her.

The feeling was addictive, and Stella was completely lost in the moment. She could not think. She could only feel as she collapsed against his chest, convulsing again when the change of position unearthed another sweet surge of pleasure.

Bane rolled them both over again, and held her head, forcing her to look at him as he continued to thrust possessively. The springs of the old daybed squeaked noisily and turned up clouds of dust around them.

"You are my property now." He rasped dangerously, gasping for breath. It was more of an order than an observation, and there was a tone of triumph to his voice. "And if any other man so much as looks at you, I will tear him apart limb by limb, and force you to watch."

With those words, Stella's orgasm came crashing down, slamming repeatedly against the shore. She throbbed with the sensation of a hundred roman candles exploding repeatedly, one by one. Savouring his final manic thrusts, she heard him groan as his body shuddered violently and released inside of her.

Once their breathing had calmed, Bane rolled off her and drew her into his arms, covering them both with his jacket. The night had become cool but neither had noticed until now.

Bane woke a few hours later and gently shook Stella awake. All the candles in the room had burned down, but a tiny stream of early light poured down from the ceiling.

"Good morning!" He greeted her cheerfully as he leapt from the bed and pulled on his cargo pants. "Our business has been successfully completed to our satisfaction, has it not?"

Stella blinked away the sleep, eyes glued hungrily on Bane as she watched him tuck himself inside his cargo pants.

" 'Morning…" she said. An urgent twinge tore through her lower body...

"Put this on." He said, tossing his black shirt to her.

"Thanks…" she said shyly as she pulled on the shirt. It was large enough to cover her body and a good section of her legs as well.

Bane donned his jacket over his naked chest, and silently, they both sat on the daybed to put on their boots.

When she rose from the bed, she found Bane hovering over her expectantly.

His brow was furrowed and quivering with fascination for her. He reached down to touch her cheek with the back of his hand. He'd heard her screams and sighs, felt her body quake as she climaxed, saw the exhilaration in her expression…

"Did you like that, my dear?" he asked softly.

Stella was so paralyzed by his hypnotic presence that she couldn't answer. She could think of nothing but her urgent desire to repeat the whole experience...

"It is obvious that you did enjoy me…" he continued, amused by her silence. "But I would like to hear it from you…"

Her blush deepened, staining her neck and increasing her heart palpitations. Bane spotted her raised nipples through his shirt and was very pleased.

"Maybe next time… we could try a less dusty place…" was all she could manage to say.

Bane smiled triumphantly beneath his mask, because he had hoped for such a suggestion from her.

"Have you forgotten already, Stella?" He began jovially. "The condition of our business arrangement was that it was to be completed with no 'second helpings'. That was your prerequisite."

"Oh. Yes. I did say that, didn't I..." she whispered.

"Yes. You did." Fingertips touching, Bane continued to smile as his bullet eyes watched Stella inwardly berate herself for the rash condition she'd made. When her disappointment was clearly palpable, he looked up to the ceiling from where he had shimmied from a rope the night before.

"Barsad!" he called.

"Here, brother!" The second-in-command's voice responded boredly from above.

"Stella and I are coming up. Ready the tumbler." he ordered, addressing the ceiling again. As much as he had enjoyed his night with Stella, Talia had entrusted him with a mission, and it was time to leave...

"Yes, boss."

Bane didn't sleep on the cargo plane that spirited him home later that same day. Accompanied by Barsad and three of his best mercenaries, his mind was busy with the previous days' events, little of which had to do with Stella. Today, Talia preoccupied his mind, since this particular mission was at her request.

Although he'd always acted as her protector, Bane preferred to think of Talia as his protector, a sort of mother to him.

Now that she was with child, he feared Bruce Wayne and the child would push him aside in importance. Talia had asked him to bring Bruce back from the Pit so she could begin torturing the man with the idea of her bringing up the child as his enemy. But Bane suspected that she had deliberately conceived, and that she might try to convince Bruce to marry her. That is, after she revealed that she was actually the daughter of Ra's al Ghul.

So, Bane's plan was simple. He would kill Bruce in the Pit, and upon his return to Gotham inform Talia that the playboy had died of his injuries while incarcerated. That would take care of one of the obstacles. The other obstacle – the child – required more careful consideration…

The desert wind blew relentlessly. Despite the protective headscarf he wore, clay-coloured sand clogged his mask, stuck to his eyelashes and irritated his throat. Bane had endured a persistent cough since disembarking the plane.

Rising from the Gotham sewers, he'd lived a far better life than the rough existences he'd carved out in other lands. There was no doubt in his mind that Gotham had made him soft. Although he'd maintained his same cot and blanket, he had allowed himself to live comfortably, eat well and forge relationships, including a sexual dalliance. The harsh desert bluntly reminded him again that he was a man who normally didn't make acquaintances. Perhaps it was time to make changes for the remainder of his stay in the decadent city.

Scanning the silent monoliths surrounding him, he deliberately ignored the gaping hole in the earth that lay ahead. He hadn't expected to return so soon, but Talia had ordained it. Stoically he approached the entrance to the underground prison, where a worried Barsad waited.

Bane looked into the Pit and frowned. The coiled section of rope that facilitated entry had been tossed inside.

"What is this?" he asked darkly, his fingers twitching. Despite the blazing heat, he felt chilled. He closed his eyes, centering himself, and in the next few moments he was outfitted with a harness and lowered inside the Pit. He was grateful for the mask, which prevented him from inhaling the foulest odors he had ever known. Not that he could ever forget them...

As his feet hit the floor, he automatically turned his gaze upwards to the ledge where he'd tossed young Talia. He could clearly remember how she soared like a bird as he watched her leap from ledge to ledge, although he remembered little of the vicious beating he endured as she made her escape. He could only remember the pain.

Bane climbed to the place where he'd recently installed Bruce, only to find the cell empty.

"Where is Mr. Wayne?" he coldly demanded of the withered inmate opposite. Bane wouldn't normally look at the man let alone speak to him, but this time his glittering eyes trained on the morphine-addled doctor who had butchered his care so many years ago.

The elderly prisoner didn't answer, preferring to bask in a small victory. The few nuggets of wisdom left to him had inspired the ex-billionaire to climb out of the Pit, and toss down the rope as a lifeline to the prison's inmates.

"Speak!" Bane threatened. "Or I will break your arm."

Although blind, the prisoner turned his head to address the mercenary.

"He made the climb, as the child did, without the rope. Kill me if you will, but I am redeemed. You can never change that." He whispered faintly.

"I will not kill you, old man." Bane drawled in a dangerous tone of voice. "You once sentenced me to suffer to the end of my days. I will do no less than the same for you." With those words, Bane wrenched his arm out of its socket, and listened to the echoes of the doctor's agonized cries as he rose out of the Pit.

Returning to the cargo plane, Bane struggled with a particular uneasiness. Now he would return to Gotham a failure, because he had underestimated Bruce. Perhaps if he had broken his spirit instead of his body, the ex-billionaire might never have found the strength to climb. It was too late now, and no doubt Bruce's tenacity would return him to his beloved Gotham City.

Talia would be pleased by the news. Bane wished he could tell her that Bruce was dead, but re-visiting the Pit had returned him to his senses. In the wake of her impending motherhood, he'd experienced irrational thoughts and indulged in ungentlemanly behaviour.

He now realized he could never lie to Talia, no matter what secret thoughts and feelings she might have for Bruce Wayne. No matter if Bane did get lost in the shuffle and pushed aside, he could never lie to her. He sighed inwardly, feeling trapped by love and loyalty.

Strapped into their utilitarian benches on the cargo plane, Bane and Barsad remained silent for much of the journey, until Bane finally spoke.

"Brother, I require additional bodies for Talia's security detail." He said.

"What for?" Barsad sneered. He was still smarting about the day she had tried to bed him in the townhouse. "She knows how to take care of herself."

"But she is with child now." Bane revealed, his mask wheezing disapproval.

Barsad exhaled a long, high-pitched whistle. "Wayne's kid." he guessed. "Does he know? Maybe that's what gave him the strength to climb out."

"He does not know!" Bane returned irritably. "Furthermore, Talia has altered the plan. She will return to the League's base, making sure Wayne is aware of her condition. She says, 'He must live to suffer the agony of knowing that his child is being raised as his enemy'. And that is how she will honour her father."

Barsad grinned, but his eyes remained unemotional. "Very ironic, Boss. Us protecting Bruce Wayne's kid, I mean." He observed. "But what about Gotham? He's probably on his way back there as we speak. If we blow the city, we'll kill him."

Bane nodded, staring out his window. "That is something Talia and I must discuss…" He eventually said.

The 52nd floor of the Morgan Building was owned entirely by Miranda Tate, affording her a spacious and oppulent home. But the Gotham philanthropist and Wayne board chair had recently been absent from her home, because Bane's revolution had forced her to set up camp at the Wayne Tower. Miranda's home had curiously been spared the sacking that Gotham's other luxury apartments endured, however, despite her absence, the apartment was put to occasional good use.

The sounds of urgent lovemaking arose from the tossed and trembling layers of Miranda's lavish bed. Once the ardent cries of the couple underneath had peaked, the room became quiet, and a smug Talia al Ghul emerged from the silk sheets, tossing them aside. She was naked, and sprawled over top of an equally naked Chance Cooper.

"Chance!" she sighed. "It's so lonely being a leader that I often forget I am a woman. Thank you for reminding me…"

"Well thank you for springing me from the brig." Chance smirked lazily. "I knew you wouldn't let me down, babe. But Bane will go apeshit when he finds out, so I'm going to need your protection." He suggested shrewdly. The calculating Harvard graduate had successfully climbed his way into Talia's bed in a remarkably short time.

They had met only a few days previous, when Talia spotted Chance at a supply bridge briefing. While Bane's back was turned, they exchanged fertile glances, immediately understanding one another.

"Bring him to me." She had quietly ordered the startled Italian-American mercenary standing at her side, her knife pressed against his kidneys. "Tell no one or you will feel more than just the sting of this blade."

Talia made a face, brushing back a lock of Chance's shiny black hair. "Don't you worry about Bane. I'll handle him." She said, her voice sounding hard and resentful. She could get just about anyone in bed…except for Bane, and she continued to be frustrated about it. It was no wonder she took lovers.

She knew she couldn't hide her pregnancy from Chance for long, but for now he would keep her satisfied. He struck her as being thoroughly ambitious, selfish and a vain user. But for some time now, a man's capacity in bed had become far more important to her than his character…

"Chance, dear..." She rolled over on her back and turned to look at him. "You must be careful. You boasted about your 'nine lives' and your 'ace in the hole' when you were arrested at the Dent Club. No one must ever know about us, so I want your promise that you'll hold your tongue and stay out of trouble."

Chance's handsome face broke into a conniving grin. Sex with the daughter of Ra's al Ghul was mind-blowing – the best he'd ever had.

"You clear me with Bane, doll, and I'll be a perfect choir boy from now on… except under these sheets."

Talia smiled at the handsome engineer's obvious insincerity, and reached out for him. "Come here then…" she commanded him softly. "...and I'll let you be on top…"


	15. Chapter 15

History is Made at Night

by batmanbane

"When one with honeyed words but evil mind

Persuades the mob, great woes befall the state."

― Euripides, Orestes

 

**Chapter 15**

Bane stood on the roof of the Daggett building, watching the night skies over Gotham City and brooding over his failure. Talia had ordered him to retrieve Bruce from the Pit, but when the mercenary arrived at the desert hellhole, he learned that the ex-billionaire had escaped.

Bruce had escaped the Pit – a feat that Bane had never accomplished, and yet another reason to hate the Prince of Gotham City.

He may have been the Batman, but he was also a member of the League of Shadows, and there was no doubt in Bane's mind that the man had already returned to Gotham. Men patrolling the Wayne mansion had yet to see anyone enter the house. Where could Bruce be hiding?

Having learned she was pregnant with Bruce Wayne's child, Talia decided that the plan had to change. She would not die in Gotham. She would return to the League's base once Gotham had been destroyed, and she would use her child to manipulate Bruce.

In all of his years with the League and as a mercenary-for-hire, Bane had never changed a plan in mid-flight. Now she was forcing him to do just that.

Bane's life had begun when Talia was born. She was his redemption, the one who had comforted him through chronic pain and ex-communication. But since her father's death, she had changed in a way that deeply troubled him. The child who climbed out of the Pit was all grown up, obsessed with vengeance and promiscuous. She made no secret of her desire to lure him into her bed, something Bane had always resisted. Increasingly there were days when he truly wanted to strangle her…

Still, he couldn't imagine his life without her.

In a rare moment of panic, his heart rate escalated and his breath labored unsteadily from the mask. What would happen to him once she gave birth to the child she referred to as her 'destiny'? Bane knew of the bond between mother and child, and her child would become the most important thing in her life.

He would be alone again, and the thought terrified him.

Spitefully he wished for a miscarriage, cursing himself at the same time for having had such a vile thought. After all, the child would likely grow into a beautiful little girl, just as her mother had been. He berated himself for his weakness, groaning softly.

He would not allow Bruce Wayne's child to push him out of Talia's life. He would leave before he would bear that humiliation…

But where would he go? Where could he go, and call it 'home'? Bane knew of such a place — a sprawling property that he had confiscated when a client couldn't pay for services rendered. It would provide Bane and the men who chose to follow him with security as well as the cover of a legitimate enterprise.

Separation from Talia would be extremely painful, but less painful than the alternative.

"Damn you all." He groaned again, overcome by melancholy. "I will endure."

Abandoning his watch of the skies he headed downstairs to his office, where he was scheduled to meet with Talia.

"How could he escape?" Talia demanded, jumping to her feet from her seat on the mercenary's cot. "His injuries were supposed to be severe! I'm disappointed in you, Bane. When I ask you to permanently disable a man, I expect you to do just that."

"I do not understand how he overcame his injuries." Bane replied sourly. "But Dr. Assad revealed the secret of your climb to him." He lowered himself into his chair, bones cracking and popping as he settled.

He'd been so sure of himself, beating the ex-billionaire to a pulp, displacing his vertebrae, committing him to the Pit, feeding him like a bird and demoralizing him with horrific scenes of Gotham's torture. Yet Bruce had triumphed, and was lurking somewhere out there. Bane could feel it.

Talia's persistent questioning might have aggravated his feelings of failure if he hadn't already known that her disappointment was an act. He knew Talia better than anyone, and he was certain she was thrilled at the prospect of Bruce Wayne coming for Miranda Tate.

"And if he was fed only scraps, then how did he have the strength to jump?" Talia perched herself on the edge of Bane's desk, continuing her haughty interrogation.

Now he was beginning to feel resentful, for more than because she was trying to deceive him with false disappointment. Bane had done virtually all of the groundwork for the revolution — the fund-raising, the kidnapping, the explosions, the speeches — all while she hosted elegant parties, chaired the Wayne board and slept with Bruce. She was the one who was with child. She was the one who changed the plan.

He rose from his chair and towered over her, regaining his ground with the calculating queen of shadows.

"Perhaps he was inspired by the possibility of a reunion with Miranda Tate." He suggested darkly.

Talia ignored his insinuation with a blunt order.

"Find him! He must not become the Batman again, nor must he die with the city." She said the words harshly, as if she were trying to strike terror into the heart of a lowly recruit.

Refusing to acknowledge her directive, Bane changed the subject.

"Since we are speaking of disappointment, may I ask why you released Chance Cooper, a man I justifiably incarcerated? The man was working against us, selling stolen food and alcohol at inflated prices. Beyond his skills as an engineer, I find Mr. Cooper useless as a League soldier and I will kill him.

"I wish you wouldn't, Bane." She cautioned in the softer tones of Miranda Tate. Chance Cooper was a toy meant to amuse her, and she wanted to keep playing with him until she had secured Bruce Wayne. "We need every man since you have been so free with your fingers! If you randomly kill too many of our men, others may begin to question their loyalty. You would not wish Barsad to doubt his future with us, would you?"

"You speak in the voice of Miss Tate again! I have asked you not to do that before me, Talia. I do believe you sometimes forget who you are." He growled.

"I am the League of Shadows." Talia stated, bristling angrily. "And I don't appreciate you talking down to me, but I will excuse your anger, recognizing that you're upset about Bruce's escape."

She'd done it again. She'd put him in his place, reminded him who was boss. Saying nothing, Bane reluctantly pushed away his feelings of resentment. After all, he considered it an honour to serve someone he loved.

"I'm being hard on you, Bane – please forgive me!" She begged as enveloped him in a big bear hug. "It's understandable that we should lose our tempers when we are so close to our goal." She added, speaking in the harder tones of her true identity.

"Your father's work used to include the death of Bruce Wayne." He reminded her. Her increasing obsession with the late Ra's al Ghul had begun to affect her mental state, and once more he cursed the man who had ex-communicated him. Although the League of Shadows' mandate was all about checking human corruption and restoring balance, Talia held little interest in towing the company line. She was in Gotham for purely selfish reasons, having become estranged from her father after he rejected Bane. When Ra's al Ghul died, however, she was consumed by sorrow and regret. Her work in the city was a penance for her own neglect of him, and an act of vengeance against the one who chose not to save him.

Bane, however, loathed the man who had betrayed him, and his role in Gotham was strictly to serve Talia. Ra's al Ghul had been a man without honour, and Bane refused to carry Talia's torch for him. The very thought of it sickened him.

"My father would be proud of the choices I've made." Talia assured him. "Be glad that Bruce is a principled man, and not the playboy he wants the public to see. He won't be happy when he learns of my true identity, or that his child is to be raised as his enemy." A thoughtful smile crossed her face, and she stared into the distance.

Bruce again. Bane could no longer hold his tongue.

"Even as a child you had hidden agendas and ulterior motives. You fooled Bruce, but do not attempt to hide your true self from me. I know you too well. Your hope is to lure him to the mountains with news of the child. Once there, your plan is to beguile him all over again as Talia al Ghul, and take him as your husband."

"Oh nonsense, Bane." Talia admonished him, amused by his ability to read her. "Marriage isn't my destiny. And you are my only family, my friend."

"Not for long…" He rumbled sadly.

An unmarked van waited in the parking garage to collect Talia and take her to the place where she would become Miranda Tate. But first, the giant staircase beckoned, and she found herself on the floor where she knew Stella resided.

Drawn by the sound of running water, Talia slipped into a tiny office, and sat down to read from the open laptop on the desk. Scrolling down the pages, she spotted her name and began to read.

Talia al Ghul was proof of the old adage 'behind every successful man stands a woman'. Few had actually seen her, but whispered rumours among the teeming Gotham mob were persistent: The mercenary Bane was not alone in his crusade. There was another, the true leader of the clandestine society known as The League of Shadows. It was said that she was breathtaking — a stunningly beautiful warrior queen with a heart of cold. She was a ghost, she was feared, and she was legend.

And if the legend is true, she was born in a foul, third world prison, bur—

"What… what do you want?" Stella Browning's startled, anxious demand broke Talia's concentration.

Angrily, Stella yanked the laptop away from Talia and hugged it against her body.

She'd never forgotten Barsad's warnings about the danger posed by the woman before her. If Talia was going to kill her now, then at least she'd die a heroine — fighting for her story. Hell had no fury like a journalist whose work had been compromised prior to publication.

"Mmmm." Talia hummed thoughtfully as she rose from the desk. "If other journalists write about me as you have, then I'll be something more than just legend. I'll be famous. Wouldn't my father would be proud of the reputation I've built for myself…." She observed thoughtfully to no one in particular.

"Uhhh…just what is this revolution of yours really all about?" Stella asked, astounded by the woman's ego. "I'd like to know, because listening to you just now, I heard a lot of first person pronouns. You'll never bring back Ra's al Ghul or undo years of estrangement from him even if you do finish his work. And as for honoring him, who the hell cares outside of a handful of anonymous thugs? The bastard got what he deserved."

Talia's smile died at Stella's blasphemous assessment of her long-dead father.

The rise of the journalist's voice brought the sound of furious boots on hardwood floors, as Stella continued to speak.

"There's someone who needs your help, and all you can think about is your fame? Bane saved your life at great cost to him, so the least you can do is save him. Why don't you put that self-important cult of yours to a more practical use — searching for the best surgeons, and the best pain management therapy. But then again, why would you do that when the mask conveniently keeps him on a leash for your benefit?"

Storming into the office with Abraham, Bane was relieved to see that the two women stood far apart from one another, no signs of violence between them.

"There's no need for alarm, my friends." Talia assured them. "We were just discussing Stella's Gotham story. Did you know that here in the city I'm known as a 'ghost'? Feared but never seen? Your little plaything is poetic, Bane."

"Don't you worry, dear." She assured Stella. "I won't kill you, despite your harsh words, because I want you to finish your story. I look forward to reading it...after publication." She was beginning to understand that Stella could be useful in more ways than one, because the more Talia thought about it, the more she liked the idea of Bane having a distraction. It might make her plans for Bruce Wayne much easier for him to swallow.

"At long last…" She sighed, as she she left with Abraham. "Someone whose sun rises and sets on you."

Bane hadn't seen Stella for three days, not since their encounter at the Dent Club, and thanks to Bruce's escape from the Pit, he'd barely thought of her once during the entire time. He didn't want her to think that he had discarded her. But for now, there was a matter far more pressing.

Extending his hand, his fingers twitched impatiently as his eyes narrowed on the laptop.

"Hand it over..." he ordered ominously.

At her make-shift clinic in the Daggett building, Dr. Natasha Van Dyne had attended to the various injuries of the mercenaries all day long. Towards the end of the day, she spotted Barsad lurking in the darkness of the hallway where her practice was based.

"Well…well!" she smirked, as she rested her hand on her hip. "I was beginning to think you got yourself killed or something. You've been gone for – what was it – three whole days?"

"I have been away, Doc, and frankly, I'm thrilled you noticed my absence." Barsad grinned. "But I'm a little disappointed you haven't thanked me for getting Chance Cooper out of your hair the other day."

Natasha groaned audibly.

"I was doing just fine when you showed up waving your big gun around. She shook her head and smiled in disbelief at his arrogance and presumption. "I could have rolled him, you know. I've done some mixed martial arts in my time!"

"It's a man's instinct to protect. Deny us our instincts and you may as well declaw and neuter us." Barsad shrugged.

"Declawed and neutered men make the best pets." She smiled. "How about a 'flu shot?"

Barsad agreed wholeheartedly, happy to extend his time with the feminist doctor.

"A doctor's tools are the best weapons of all." She asserted as she jabbed the needle into his upper arm and frowned at the sight of his rifle.

Barsad winced as Natasha slapped a bandage over the injection area.

"Don't go anywhere now." she cautioned. "I have to be sure you don't have an adverse reaction to the shot."

The sharpshooter looked appalled. "What kind of reaction?" he asked, quietly panicking.

Should anything happen to you — difficulties in breathing, hives, rapid heart beat…" She said, reveling in the litany of symptoms. "I can handle it." She assured him. "Remember that I was an ER doctor before Bane brought me here, so I'm ready for all kinds of emergencies."

"And that's another thing you haven't thanked me for." Barsad said. "Bane wasn't very happy when Abraham brought you here, because he didn't want women in his army. It was only due to the intervention of yours truly that he decided to keep you." He bragged. "Otherwise, you and Abraham would probably still be swinging from the nearest bridge."

"You defended me to Bane?"

"I did. I reminded him that you were sympathetic to our mission, and I cited your excellent record at Gotham General. And I didn't even know you then. So you see, I'm not such a bad guy, am I?" The sharpshooter boasted.

"I didn't say you were a bad guy." She said as she glanced again at the massive rifle stretched across a chair. "But weapons are an obscenity in a hospital environment. Do you realize how many gunshot wounds I've treated today?"

"So…you're asking me to leave, is that it?"

"I didn't say that, Barsad!" She protested. Frustrated, she pushed her glasses to the top of her head and tossed her Katniss braid. "Jeepers, stop putting words in my mouth! I appreciate that you thought of my safety. You're right. He's a slimy creep and you saved me the trouble of throwing him out on his ass. But I don't like guns. I also don't know if I can trust you, even though you are kind of cute."

Barsad's chest swelled. At last, an encouraging sign from her.

"Well then, Doc, suppose you give me the same benefit of the doubt you give to Bane." He suggested, smiling wickedly at her…

Inside her cramped two-room apartment in Old Town, Selina Kyle pushed aside clutter to make room for a guest.

"Thank you for letting me stay." Bruce Wayne was thin, pale and quietly grateful.

"Well… it's the least I can do now that I have the Clean Slate." Selina announced boredly. "Just don't get any ideas while you're here."

It was the least she could do, given that she'd offered him up to Bane and watched him beaten within an inch of his life. But she'd never tell Bruce Wayne that the guilt ate away at her. She could see by the look in his eyes that he'd suffered, but since he gave every indication of well-being, she remained silent on the subject.

"Besides, you can't go home to your mansion. My guess is that its been ransacked, and you're probably not used to wading through broken glass."

"Already been there!" Bruce announced cheerfully. "I had to go in order to get the Clean Slate. There were mercenaries inside, but…I managed to elude them." An ironic smile crept across his face.

"By the way, Ms. Kyle, the Clean Slate was kept in the same safe you cracked at my house on Harvey Dent Day. If you'd taken the flash drive instead of…my mother's pearls, you might never have been trapped in the city."

Selina crossed her arms, a deep frown forming between her brows. "And why do I need to know that?" She asked dismissively. One more crack like that and she was going to throw him out on his ass.

"The couch pulls out into a bed. Sorry I can't offer you the luxury of Wayne Manor." The dark beauty couldn't resist throwing Bruce Wayne's birthright in his face.

"It's fine." Bruce replied, remembering his cot in the Pit. "I'm sure I'll sleep like a baby."

"Look, I'm going out to get us some food." She grabbed her coat and headed for the door. "I'll be back in about an hour."

"Wait." He frowned. "You aren't safe from him out there, and you're not safe from him here. You need… to be careful. I told you those men are trained killers."

Selina rolled her eyes. "If you're worried you'll lose your chance to get to Fox—"

"You saw what he did to me…" Bruce didn't wait for her to finish her sentence.

Selina looked away guiltily. What she had done to him.

"He lost track of me when I was arrested. I'm not sure he knows he released me from Blackgate. That, or he wants me to wreak havoc all over Gotham just like the rest of the Blackgate inmates."

"And have you?" Bruce already knew what her answer would be.

She stuffed her hands into her coat pockets. Strange as it seemed, once Bane had taken charge of the city, Selina realized she had become one of the good guys.

Breaking into the wide, smug grin she wore like armour, she said, "Hey, its pretty monotonous cracking safes when you have permission. Where's the fun in it?"

"I'm coming with you." Bruce insisted, knowing that the woman wouldn't appreciate his offer.

"Don't be stupid!" She drawled patronizingly. "It's you who can't be seen!"

Pushing her way through the apartment's heavy exterior door, she allowed it to slam noisily behind her.

"I don't suppose I have to remind you not to open the door to anyone." She shouted from outside, deliberately emasculating her guest as she slipped into the night…


	16. Chapter 16

"Surrender your laptop to me now, Stella."

Bane had grown tired of his mounting pressures: Talia's pregnancy, Bruce's escape, the bomb's imminent detonation. Abraham had just informed him of incidents of rebellion in Gotham City, and now the magazine story Stella was preparing contained what he considered to be sensitive information about Talia.

"I can't do that." Stella replied angrily. "A journalist never allows her sources to vet her material. I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait until the story is published before you read it!"

"I am well aware of your journalistic ethics, and I have no interest in reading your story. I am only going to destroy it, so give it to me now." He demanded, as his fingers twitched dangerously.

"Absolutely not. I refuse."

Bane's eyes narrowed as the mask wheezed ominously. "Did I not warn you against writing about Talia?" he asked mildly. "I expect my orders to be followed."

"I can't bury that information! I have a responsibility to tell the truth. If I don't, then someone else will get the story, when it's mine. You ended my career at Gotham Woman. Now you owe me!"

Impatient with her resistance, he crossed the room in three heavy strides. "Your ambition is admirable, but I owe you nothing." He rumbled. "Do as I say and give it to me."

His large fingers tugged at the laptop she held tightly against her chest. When she didn't let go, he wrenched it away so violently that she stumbled to the floor.

"If Talia doesn't mind the story, then why should you?" She demanded, awkwardly righting herself.

"Because I am her protector." He shoved the laptop under his arm and reached for her right hand, which was stubbornly clenched in a fist. Staring her down with a dark hazel gaze, he pried her fingers apart, revealing a red flash drive hidden within her palm.

"I will take this as well." He rasped merrily, his voice rising at the end of his sentence.

"You are officially a bastard!" She hissed.

"I am indeed. However, I should never have allowed you to write this story, or to interview me. Because I am at fault, I will spare you punishment…for now."

"Spare me punishment?" She huffed in disbelief. "And stealing my laptop isn't punishment?"

"These items will be returned to you once the appropriate files have been deleted." He assured her. "Until then you will have to do without."

She glared at him silently, wondering what had become of the man she'd spent the night with at the Dent Club. She was still sore and bruised from her encounter with him, but Bane hadn't mentioned a word about it since returning from his mysterious mission. Of course, their rendezvous had just been business… or was it? She hadn't been able to stop thinking about it.

Before Bane closed the door behind him, he paused. "You are displeased with me, now." He observed solemnly.

"Displeased? I hate you!"

Once the door closed behind him and his footfalls faded, Stella reached into the deepest pocket of her cargo pants, smiling broadly.

"You forgot to frisk me." She whispered.

With nothing better to do, Stella dressed warmly and went out to collect stories for the tabloid. The air was crisp and cold, and a thin blanket of snow covered the city.

Abraham insisted on accompanying her, knowing there were trouble spots in downtown Gotham. Their first stop was the Gotham City Network's mobile truck. Sticking her head inside the vehicle, Stella spotted news correspondent Jackie Kent, grimacing over a steaming cup of java.

"Can't get a decent cup of coffee in this town since he took over." She complained. "Hello, Stella…what's new?"

"Not much, I'm afraid." Stella sighed. "How about you?"

"I've been covertly filming a news documentary, but I've had to be very careful, because that little Barsad creep keeps sniffing around my crew.

"Really?" Stella laughed. "He's sweet, but he is very curious."

"Oh yeah, that big bazooka of his is really sweet…" Jackie scoffed. "Now — Stella — have you considered what we talked about? Because the way I see it, you're our best chance for stopping the bomb. Bane has to know how to turn it off, and since you're sleeping with him, you're in a perfect position to get to the truth!"

Stella squirmed uncomfortably, not wanting to admit that she'd only slept with Bane once. "Jackie… don't get your hopes up. I think he's lost interest in me."

"Oh, what's the matter with you?" the other woman demanded. "You're a woman, aren't you? Seduce him! Make him think he's in charge. Make him crazy with desire. Then just as you take him to the brink, whisper 'Darling, tell me how to diffuse the bomb'. Mark my words, all men are weak, and he'll cave! He'll tell you everything, and when he does, you fuck him to Kingdom Come! Now, what's so hard about that?" She exclaimed.

"God, Jackie!" She winced. "You have such a filthy mind!" She was grateful that Abraham had waited outside where he couldn't hear the conversation. "What if he refuses to tell me?" She couldn't believe that she was actually considering the GCN reporter's suggestion.

"Then you roll out of bed, pull on your clothes and say… 'I'm sorry, but I can never sleep with a man who doesn't trust me with the truth, blah blah.' And then you make your exit, leaving him with an unspent dick. If you've made him crazy enough with lust, he'll go right after you and tell you everything in exchange for release."

Stella shook her head in disbelief. "You sound like an expert in this kind of thing…"

"I've had my moments. I'd do the job myself except I don't think Bane likes me too much. He always avoids me." She lit a cigarette, and Stella noticed the 36-year old woman's hand was shaking.

"Are you feeling okay?" She frowned.

"Yeah…I'm fine. I guess I just have to lay off the booze." She confessed as she rolled her eyes.

"What if I do get Bane in bed and then he lies to me?" Stella continued to pursue the uncomfortable line of questioning.

"Now you listen to me, young lady..." Jackie replied darkly. "If you do your job properly, he won't lie."

"I'll think very seriously about it, then." Stella promised.

"That's what you said last time we talked!" The redhead protested. "We don't have much time left, Stella! I have to get back to New York City and my husband. Don't you understand? I cheated on him here, and I need to make it up to him! The woman reporter was teary-eyed and quickly approaching hysteria.

"Chance Cooper?" Stella guessed sympathetically.

Jackie nodded silently, delicately wiping her eyes to avoid smearing her heavy television make-up.

"It's going to be okay." Stella assured her, squeezing her hand. "Just take deep breaths, and do your job. Come on, you can do it."

"Yes, I know, I know. I wouldn't have gotten into this business if I was frightened to be in harm's way." She replied stoically. "Here, take this." she said, reaching behind her for the half-empty bottle of wine she'd hidden from Stella. "Go on, get it out of my sight!"

Silently, Stella took the bottle from her.

"I meant it when I said I wanted us to be friends." Jackie said. "I'm responsible for your being seen as a traitor. So look, if we get out of this, I want to introduce you to the right people in Manhattan. Just tell me what publishing house you'd like to work for. If you want a book deal, I can help with that too."

Stella was taken aback by the generosity in the GCN reporter's voice.

"I'm overwhelmed, Jackie. Thank you for that." She sputtered.

"Now, one more thing, honey." Jackie Kent was all business now. "The natives are restless. My people are hearing whispers of an uprising against Bane, chiefly amongst the Blackgate men. The party's over and they realize they've been had. There have been pockets of resistance that have been easily put down by Bane's men, but the unrest is growing. So stay close to your man out there." She said, indicating Abraham, who was pacing back and forth in front of the truck.

Stella frowned again. "Thanks for the tip. We'll be careful." She was both troubled and encouraged by the news. Gotham could possibly have a fighting chance, but where would that leave Bane? And what about the bomb?

Outside the GCN truck, Abraham watched curiously as Stella dumped the wine down a sewer grate and tossed the empty bottle into an overflowing garbage bin.

"No!" He cautioned as he retrieved it from the bin and smashed it to pieces on the pavement. "This b-bottle would make someone a g-good weapon, and w-we don't want that." Diligently he kicked every single piece of glass into the sewer grate. "Where t-to now?"

"The St. Swithin's home." She replied. "I owe Father Reilly a visit. Abraham, what can you tell me about the rebellions?"

"I can't, but I am s-supposed to look after you." He replied apologetically.

Arriving at the orphanage, they encountered Ahmed skateboarding outside the front entrance. Recognizing Stella, he jumped off the board, threw his arms around her and hugged her tightly.

"Dr. Natasha gave us all 'flu shots! Why do we have to have needles when we're all going to be dead soon?" He demanded tearfully.

Stella hardly knew what to say. The only way she knew how to comfort him was by being honest.

"We don't know for sure that the bomb is going to go off, Ahmed. Bane could be bluffing. If not, maybe he could have a change of heart. There's always hope, isn't there? In the meantime, life goes on, and Dr. Natasha doesn't want you to get sick."

Natasha emerged from the front entrance, carrying her doctors' bag.

"Cute Kid!" she said as Ahmed gave her the finger before rushing past her into the main doors of St. Swithin's. Turning her attention to the street she watched one of the Batman's tumblers roar up onto the pavement.

Barsad leapt out of the driver's seat and acknowledged both women, but only had eyes for Natasha.

"And how are you feeling this fine day, Dr. Van Dyne?" He asked cheerfully, his deep-set blue eyes fixated on her.

Natasha slyly returned his question. "Very well, Mr. Barsad. And you?"

"Couldn't be better…." He answered, eventually looking away from her. "I'm on patrol, but I'll drive you ladies back to the Daggett building. The streets are dangerous today."

"Well, thanks for the offer, Barsad, but I'm not going back just yet." Stella said. "I want to see Father Reilly. Abraham will look after me."

Barsad was quiet for a moment. "Abraham, don't let her out of your sight today." Turning to Natasha he said, "Get in, Doc."

Natasha descended the steps of the orphanage with a small smile.

"What's up?" the blonde journalist asked in a whispered inquiry. "You're blushing."

Painfully shy all of a sudden, Natasha returned Stella's hushed tones. "I'm not ready to dish yet, okay?"

Once Barsad had delivered her to the Daggett building, Natasha went straight to Bane's office, arriving unannounced and without an appointment. Recognizing her, his security people allowed her easy access.

"Long time no see, Sampson." She declared as she burst into Bane's tiny office. "You and I were supposed to be working on getting you off painkillers. But you've been missing your appointments."

"I don't have time for this conversation, Doctor." Bane insisted. "I appreciate your advice and concern, and I will continue to pursue the matter with you at some point, but I must give the city my complete attention for the moment. You will have to excuse me now, Dr. Van Dyne."

"Sure, I'll get out of here, but I need to know – do you want a life free of the mask, or don't you?"

Bane grimaced, his brow wrinkling. "Dr. Van Dyne, if not for the mask, men would never fear me. With the mask I am able to project my voice and respiration, always reliable intimidation factors."

"I get it, I understand." Natasha insisted. "You get a real thrill out of making people squirm. Maybe it's even a sexual thing. So go ahead and wear the damn mask if that's what's important to you, but you and I both know you shouldn't have to rely on the drugs that flow through it."

Bane rose from his chair angrily, bothered by her frankness. "I have already told you that I cannot discuss this now. Please do not concern yourself, Dr. Van Dyne."

"Why shouldn't I? I'm a doctor." Natasha argued. "This… this mob that you work for — why haven't they been able to help you? They have endless resources, according to Barsad. Aren't there surgeons on staff?"

Bane blinked. Natasha's line of questioning had a familiar refrain. He'd overheard a similar charge from Stella, claiming that Talia was neglecting his care.

"Have you been speaking to Stella?" He frowned.

"Nope. I don't talk about my patients' needs with anyone. If Stella had the same idea, then call it a woman's intuition. Your condition doesn't make sense to either one of us."

"Very well." Bane sighed. "The League does recruit physicians in all specialties."

"Do they have to be trained killers? Because I know of a few candidates who might be interested in joining up – as long as they aren't asked to betray the Hippocratic oath. I'm not a surgeon, but somebody like me might be interested, for example.

Staring curiously at his diminutive, but determined doctor, the astounded Bane asked, "You wish to serve the League of Shadows?"

"I told you when I volunteered that I was looking for adventure, and I've found it here." Natasha replied bluntly. "I figure as long as the League has unlimited resources, then it needs someone like me to light a fire under the boneheads who haven't helped you yet."

"But that is not the way things work, Dr. Van Dyne. The League of Shadows is a calling. You cannot simply walk in and take over its medical staff."

"Why not? Who do I have to see to sign on — Ra's al Ghul himself?

In addition to orphaned boys, St. Swithin's accommodated a number of people rendered homeless by Bane. Inside, Stella found Father Reilly and introduced herself.

"I write the Gotham Reckoning, and I've been meaning to come by to thank you for allowing the boys to deliver the tabloid." She explained.

The older man scrutinized Stella carefully as he shook her hand.

"So you're 'the people of Gotham'? I just assumed he was writing it under that name. I'll be honest — I had a few tough moments over that decision. After all, the tabloid is basically propaganda, isn't it Stella?"

"I understand why you believe that." Stella protested. "But I want people to have hope and I always look for encouraging stories. And he never disagrees with what I write…"

It seemed neither one of them was comfortable mentioning Bane's name.

"Well, in the end I decided it was more important for the boys to have a purpose and a distraction from grim times. So I allowed them to distribute your tabloid."

"Are the improvements he promised done?

"Yes, yes they are." He answered enthusiastically. "The plumbing and heating have both been repaired. The boys are reading the books he sent, by the way."

A sudden, awkward silence rose between them.

"It would be better if they didn't have to worry about a bomb." The Father said, cocking his eyebrow at Stella. "I'm not a man who listens to gossip, but if you have any influence at all with him, you owe it to yourself and to others to use it."

Stella pressed her lips together. Obviously, Jackie Kent's loose tongue had breached the walls of St. Swithin's and Father Reilly had heard she was sleeping with Bane.

"I know that. I don't want the bomb to detonate, but I don't know what to do about it." Jackie Kent's outrageous suggestion hovered vividly at the top of her mind.

"You know, Stella. We've only just met, but I'm getting the distinct impression that you're a good person who just happens to be involved with a very unscrupulous man. My door is open if you want to talk," the priest assured her. "And you can count on my discretion, of course."

After leaving Father Reilly, Stella found Abraham waiting patiently for her on the steps of the orphanage, pacing back and forth as was his habit.

"Did you g-go to c-confession?" He asked, clearly worried at what she might have told the priest about Bane.

"No…" Stella replied, amused by his apparent state of alarm. "But maybe I should have." She added thoughtfully. Maybe it was time to count her sins. She'd agreed to work for Bane, writing what Father Reilly perceived as propaganda, lived comfortably while the rest of Gotham suffered, ignored her family, killed a man, slept with Bane…

She reached into her deep pocket and clutched the flash drive hidden inside. Most of her sins were selfishly committed in pursuit of her precious story. The one she wasn't sure she'd be able to get out of the city.

Silently, Stella continued to ponder the problem of the bomb as she and Abraham returned to the Daggett building.

"I have to speak to you immediately." She announced, rapping loudly on Bane's open door.

"Your laptop has been returned to you. You will find it in your office." Bane declared without looking up.

"It's not about that. It's about the bomb. I've just left a very scared little boy who wants to know why he had to have a 'flu shot when was going to be dead soon."

"If the child is fearful, then I have done my duty." Bane replied ruthlessly. He'd had quite enough of contrary females for one day.

"There has to be a way to turn off that bomb!" She pleaded. "Somebody must know how, and that somebody is you! Today I was asked by two different people for help in stopping it."

"Impossible."

The priest at St. Swithin's — Father Reilly — thinks I'm a good person involved with an unscrupulous man, and wants me to use my influence on you.

"Of course he would say that. He is doing his job."

"And Jackie Kent wants me to use my powers of seduction to pry the truth out of you in bed."

Bane finally looked up from the chart he'd been drawing. Behind the mask, his scarred lips drew into a ready smile.

He was delighted, and very intrigued that she had shown no hesitation in sharing the Kent woman's crude advice.

Rising from his chair he crossed the small office and locked the door, reaching for the heavy canvas bag that hung from a hook.

Only then did it occur to Stella that Bane was stripped to the waist. Her female parts shuddered, and she swallowed hard. She wanted to keep it together, because she had to have a serious conversation with him.

"Do not fear the bomb, Stella. I will have ferried you to safety long before it detonates." He said assuringly, moving to sit on the edge of his desk.

"Oh, that's fine isn't it? You'll spare me, but the rest of the city will burn. How am I supposed to live with myself after that?"

Digging through the bag, Bane found the items he was looking for, and tightened a tourniquet around his arm.

"You will live with yourself exactly as you have done these past months in your service to me." He answered, preparing a syringe and injecting it directly into the exposed vein inside his left arm.

"Hey, what is that stuff?" Stella demanded, alarmed by his actions. Despite having slept with him, she realized that she still knew very little about him.

"Call it a tonic." Bane said as he tossed the expressed needle into a safe disposal container. He raised himself from his desk, towering over her, and Stella's heart leapt as Bane released the clasps of the cumbersome mask and placed it carefully on the desk.

She stared at him with unabashedly greedy eyes. There it was — the scarred face she'd seen in Natasha's office. Underneath the mask he was an ordinary man. The difference was, he wasn't asleep now, and she could plainly see that despite the scars, he had a warm expression and of course, the gorgeous mouth that she'd kissed. She found it hard to believe that this was the same man who had broken the neck of Dr. Pavel, and ruthlessly murdered the drug dealers at the home of her aunt and uncle.

"The truth is, I don't know how to turn off the bomb. " He leaned in, laying a soft, tentative kiss on her gaping mouth.

Stella swooned, and gripped his bare, muscled arms to steady herself.

"And because I do not know, I cannot give you an answer, no matter how you try to coax it from me." One by one he left a very specific line of warm kisses along her neck and jaw, escalating her arousal. "Although I will certainly enjoy your efforts."

Reeling from his embrace, Stella finally found words. "Bane…" she broke away from him. "What I said about no second helpings —"

He interrupted her with another gentle kiss. "That was business. This is pleasure. Correct?" His lips ghosted hers as he waited for her answer, and his hands gripped her waist, squeezing it provocatively as if to suggest he was only too eager to continue.

His gaze was intense, almost frightening, but Stella didn't cower. She answered his question by carefully folding her arms around his neck, and then crushing her lips against his. Their mouths explored one another voraciously - lips, necks, collarbones - and there were few words, only the intermittent sounds of sighs and lips colliding. Stella's hungry hands mapped his trap muscles, pectorals and abs, even squeezing his gluts.

Bane groaned loudly at her efforts, hands moving from her waist to knead her breasts. He freed her hair from its pony-tail, running his rough fingers through it as his kisses grew deeper. Taking hold of her buttocks, he lifted her, pushing her hard against a nearby wall. "Yes." She whispered, instinctively wrapping her legs around him, and returning his kisses with an ardour she'd never felt possible. She was ready for him, she'd surrendered to the moment, but the moment was not to be...

Aggressive pounding sounded against the office door, accompanied by the rattling of the door handle. "Bane, we've got trouble at City Hall!"

The voice belonged to Barsad, and his interruption caused Bane to cast a murderous stare at the door.

"Nooooo..." Stella whined softly into his naked chest. "Make them to go away..."

"You are quite capable of handling the situation yourself!" He roared, furious. "I am otherwise engaged."

"You're needed, Brother!" Barsad insisted. "These guys are getting to be a real problem, and you have to show your mask to remind them who's boss!"

Bane turned his gaze to the woman whose head was pressed against his chest, and then returned his attention to the door.

"Wait for me, Barsad." He called. "I must dress."

Stella's feet dropped to the floor as Bane suddenly released her. He crossed to his desk and silently re-attached the mask to his head. Struggling with the straps of his vest, he noticed that she'd slid down the wall and plopped herself on the floor. Her chin rested in her hand and there was an expression of deep disappointment on her flushed face. She was sucking her bottom lip, an action that caused Bane to smirk again.

"I regret I have to leave you, Stella." He said, looking down at her with a stare that was still dark with arousal.

"We will continue our... conversation. When I return, I expect you to be waiting."


	17. Chapter 17

History is Made at Night

Outside of City Hall, thirty Blackgate prisoners were cuffed, lined up and chained to one another. Dirty, unshaven and foul-smelling, some appeared contrite, but others stared defiantly at the masked menace before them. Barsad stood by, pointing his AK-47 at the group.

"You're a dead man, Bane." A dignified, silver-haired inmate stepped forward to speak, as far as his chain would allow. "There's more of us out there, and we'll get you eventually. It's only a matter of time. One clear shot to the head is all it will take."

Unconcerned by the man's words, Bane strolled lazily down the line of prisoners. Looping his thumbs into the straps of his vest, he stopped at the older man making the threat and began to address the group.

"You gentlemen betrayed me." He observed coldly. "I freed you, gave you weapons, and the opportunity to indulge your baser instincts – to ransack homes and take whatever women you wanted. I offered you a chance to stay in the sun. And in return for my trust, you fought my men."

"We are your men!" the elderly prisoner countered. "You told us an army would be raised, so we joined up. We did what you asked. We stole from the corrupt, trashed their homes and threw them on the street, until it dawned on us that we were just pawns. You didn't have enough of your own men, so you acquired a thousand more from Blackgate."

Bane's brow rose. The prisoner was unusually articulate.

"How is it you did not understand this from the beginning?" He asked curiously.

The inmate's blue eyes misted over. "H-how could we have understood?" His voice shook with emotion. "You gave us freedom! Do you know how it feels to be released from prison? To smell fresh air…be reunited with a loved one?"

Barsad had heard enough, and trained his weapon on the man. "Time to be quiet, old man." He ordered.

Irritably, Bane raised his hand to caution the sharpshooter. "Allow the man to speak, Brother."

"You don't believe in what you preach." The prisoner scoffed. "You don't give a damn about justice for Blackgate or the oppressed, you lying son of a bitch!"

"Identify yourself, Prisoner." Bane squawked.

"I'm prisoner number BG-7610649. Among my colleagues here, I'm just 'Nabs'."

The masked mercenary moved closer to the outspoken inmate. The truth was, he did know freedom. His own rescue from the Pit was never far from his mind, nor was his eventual reunion with Talia. He'd never forgotten the feeling.

"We are not so different, you and I." He rumbled cynically as he returned his attention to the other prisoners.

"You have all lived a great deal of your lives in prison, and in prison is where you will die." Bane turned to Barsad, his phallic forefinger rotating impatiently.

"See that these men are returned to Blackgate no matter what the damages to the cell locking mechanisms. Chain the doors if you must." He then turned to address the elderly prisoner specifically.

"You will go free, to offer the people of Gotham hope." Bane said.

"No thank you, Son. I don't want your kind of hope." Nabs stated plainly. "We're all going to die in the blast anyway, so you're not doing me any favours." He showed no fear as he boldly stared the mercenary down.

Infuriated, Bane's brow furrowed heavily as his fingers reached to crush the windpipe of the prisoner.

"I am not your son." He growled as the older man's body fell to the ground.

Selina Kyle spread a faded blueprint over the surface of the tiny dining table she never used. Bruce watched, fascinated by the woman before him. Fiercely confident, she had acquired fighting skills similar, if not equal to his, and she'd done it without the aid of great wealth or a secret society.

Bruce was impressed.

"I found this blueprint in the file room on the 14th floor of Wayne Tower. So pay attention, because I'm only going to say this once." She drawled.

The reprimanded Bruce humoured her and re-focused his attention on the blueprint as she continued to talk.

"You don't look healthy enough to climb stairs."

"I'm fine." He insisted. He hadn't told her of the reason for his unhealthy appearance, but she hadn't pressed him about it, either. In the brief time he had been acquainted with the chilly cat burglar, he had observed that she delighted in emasculating him. Strangely enough, he didn't mind.

"Ms. Kyle, I realize you think I'm a spoiled billionaire, but I really don't need a blueprint to get into my own building." Bruce said calmly. "My father built Wayne Tower, and when I was a boy, he and I used to ride the construction elevator every day. I know all the secrets of getting inside, and all the best places to hide."

"You may be surprised. Bane's men have shot it to pieces." Selina insisted. "Your people are being held in a corridor outside the executive suite. You'll have to enter with the intention of getting caught —"

Bruce raised his hand, interrupting her. "I know where the executive suite is, Ms. Kyle, and I know what I have to do. You don't have to spell it out for me."

Selina ignored him and continued her directions. "I'll be your shadow until they grab you. I'll tell the guards that Bane wants the Wayne group moved to City Hall. Then I'll disable them so you and Fox can get your powerful friend up and running."

"That's the part I don't like." Bruce protested. "Those men are after you. They'll kill you."

Frowning slightly, she said, "The tower guards are local hires. I'm counting on them not knowing Bane is after me. If I succeed in getting you in and out, you can always gift me with a certain string of pearls." She mused, offering up a brilliant smile. "The things I do for you and your girlfriend…"

Bruce gaped again, spellbound by the bold thief. He hadn't thought about Miranda Tate in hours.

"Don't worry, Mr. Wayne." She assured him, enjoying his dumbfounded expression. "Risk keeps me on my game."

"But, you told me you're through with games, Ms. Kyle." Bruce reminded her.

"Only the illegal ones, Mr. Wayne."

Once the rebel prisoners were re-installed in Blackgate, Barsad returned to the mayor's office, where he found Bane sorting through prison files.

"I don't know how much longer we'll be able to shut down these swarmings." He said, stopping short of questioning Bane's wisdom in handing Blackgate men weapons. "And I definitely don't like what the old man said. He's right – one good shot by one of their snipers would be enough to take you down."

Bane shook his head. "Those men served our purpose for a time, turning this city upside down. We expected them to retaliate at some point, and in that regard they have not disappointed us. They are concentrating their attacks around City Hall because they are planning to take control of the city." He theorized. "We will remain here around the clock until detonation."

Barsad gave Bane a hard stare of disapproval.

"I am not finished, Brother!" Bane snarled angrily. "Place our snipers on high alert. Arrest all inmates on sight. Shoot them if they resist. And send a fresh team of men to search the Wayne property. Bruce is out there somewhere, and must be found."

Nodding his approval, the sharpshooter asked, "What's so fascinating in those files?" He asked, rising to accept a delivery of food from the mess hall.

"Alexander McNab was once a Vice-President with the Gotham Rogues organization — a man who lost everything to the subprime mortgage crisis in 2008. In protest of the government bailouts, he burst into the Grand Avenue Financial Group with an automatic weapon and shot into the ceiling. For that relatively minor crime he was sent to Blackgate and denied parole.

Bane was silent for a moment before speaking again.

"This corrupt, wretched city makes me feel very unclean. Thankfully our departure is imminent…"

"Speaking of our departure, I received confirmation today that the Lalonde property has been secured, and ownership transferred to me. There is a cleaning crew, a staff from League headquarters, and a team of consultants already on site. The house should be just about ready by the time we arrive. But the business is going to be a challenge, Bane. I haven't had a real job in years." Barsad smirked.

"We will never be out of the mercenary business, Barsad, if that is what worries you. We must never lose our influence in the world, but we can cloak it behind a new enterprise. It is fortuitous that our European connection defaulted on our loan. Felix Lalonde's failure has provided us with an excellent cover. Now Brother, what about our transportation?"

"Talia will depart for the League in Miranda Tate's private plane, but she'll need quick transport to the airfield. We've obtained two medical helicopters on which we'll make our escape. I've assigned Finkelstein to Talia. Nehme will fly us to the freighter. Does she know you're not going back with her?"

Talia. Bane dreaded the thought of a coming storm with her. Growing instability in the mind of the woman he had rescued as a child was driving a wedge between them. She carried the Wayne love child, and told Bane that she planned to honor her father by grooming the child to be the enemy of Bruce. She denied it, but Bane strongly suspected she had deliberately conceived because she wanted Bruce, and planned to use the child as leverage to lure him to her. It all meant that Bane would be pushed aside in her life. He had decided he would not stand idly by while that happened. He did not enjoy loneliness.

"No…" He replied curtly. "She does not know. She will discover the truth soon enough."

Barsad knew instinctively when not to press Bane, and this was one of those times. The second-in-command changed the subject.

"I understand you've allowed for two extra passengers. I appreciate your bringing Natasha along. I don't want her to die here…"

"I am fond of her too, Brother." Bane said enthusiastically. "She has expressed a desire to work with our League physicians. I've agreed to her terms, that she be allowed to perform her duties as a physician without political bias. At the same time she will recruit new surgeons to the League." His eyes suddenly sparkled in momentary amusement. "I'm pleased that you will benefit by her inclusion. Ask Abraham to bring both our passengers here tonight. Tell him to restrain Stella if necessary and lock her up here. No matter much she protests, she goes with us when we leave.

Wincing, Barsad imagined Abraham having to haul a zip-cuffed Stella in the mayor's office.

Bane had been gone for hours, and Stella was trying not to feel 'stood up'. It was the second time an intended tryst between them had been interrupted by urgent news from Barsad. Bane had told her that he would return, and that he expected to find her waiting for him. But, he'd been gone for hours, and to her shame Stella had done nothing during that time but wait for the distant sounds of the elevator.

She stared longingly out the office door. He would come back, just as he said he would, and they'd continue right where they left off…

She uttered another deep sigh as her stomach fluttered in anticipation of what was to come - if it came at all.

'If' was the operative word.

She blinked and frowned, raising her head from the desk. It was time to have a heart-to-heart talk with herself.

The impending destruction of Gotham was far more important than whatever was happening between herself and Bane. What she had begun to see as a possible romance, might merely be a meaningless dalliance for him. Until she knew for sure, she couldn't allow the prospect of sex with him to rule her. She was no toy, no obedient concubine. How dare he tell her that he expected to find her waiting when he returned? She was definitely going to have words with him about that. Her frown deepened.

Forget the sex. The city was going to explode if something wasn't done about it.

She returned to her room, showered and dressed, and found Abraham nursing a cup of coffee in the kitchen.

"I'll need your escort services this evening, Abraham, so how about you and I make ourselves some dinner together before we go?"

"Yes to d-dinner." He stammered. "But it's n-not a good idea to go out after c-curfew… He won't like it…"

"Must you leave so soon, Chance?" Talia rose from her bed and wrapped herself in one of Miranda Tate's sinfully luxurious blankets. She was plotting, and anxious to return to Wayne Tower before the idiot Fox noticed her absence.

"Afraid so, Babe."

She cringed inwardly, loathing Chance Cooper's cavalier manner. The man was handsome, but obvious. Bruce was far more pleasing…

"Unfortunately, I've got business downtown. One of my clubs is still operating, so I really should make an appearance every night." He boasted.

Smiling knowingly at the vacuous young man's braggadocio, she said, "It's only by my good graces that your club hasn't yet been discovered by Bane's men."

"Yea, well, I suspect I'm small potatoes now compared to the Blackgate rebels. In the meantime, why don't you meet me at 'The Docks' later for some private time?"

Grinning widely, she blew a kiss to the handsome engineer. "Of course!" She agreed. "Bruno will bring me. I'll be along later, Chance, dear." She promised.

Her guard watched thoughtfully as Chance Cooper disappeared inside the townhouse's private elevator.

"I'll be expecting you!" Chance called as the door slid shut and the elevator began its downward descent.

Bruno Terranova was the mercenary who had first delivered Cooper to Talia's bed, and he'd very quickly become her trusted man. Talia sensed a deep loyalty inside the quiet Italian, and responded by deliberately fashioning her cries of ecstasy for the enjoyment of the devoted bodyguard who stood by her closed bedroom door.

She had enjoyed her affair with Chance Cooper, but now it was time to make a change. She couldn't hide her growing belly from him any longer, and she suspected his shallow character couldn't handle the reality of her impending motherhood.

"Bruno…" Talia sauntered toward her besotted guard. "I want you to follow Chance Cooper. Arrest him and see to it that he goes to Crane's Court for sentencing."

Bruno nodded, unsuccessfully trying to hide the smile on his face.

"A reward awaits upon your return!" She whispered.

In a dark, cold alleyway, Stella panted as she attempted to collect her composure following a terrifying incident. She and Abraham had been on their way to Jackie Kent's mobile truck when they were swarmed by a crowd of Blackgate men and angry citizens. Although she tried to fight it, she was swept up in the forward momentum of the crowd, and was separated from Abraham. Adding to her terror was the feeling of being suffocated by the crowd, pushing her from all sides. She had begun to lose consciousness when as quickly as the attack began, it ended, and she was thrown to the pavement as the crowd moved on. Her legs shook violently as she picked herself up and staggered into a nearby alley.

There was no sign of Abraham.

"Abraham?" She called tearfully, as a dark shadow approached her in the moonlight.

"Shhh!" A male voice insisted. "Stella?"

"Yes?" The voice didn't belong to Abraham, but it was familiar.

"Chance Cooper? Don't sneak up on me like that!" She fired at him. "Do you know what I've just been through?"

"I'm sorry, Sunshine, but somebody is following me. Is it you?", the alarmed Harvard graduate asked.

"No, why would I be following you?" She demanded irritably as she wiped a trickle of blood from her face.

"Just calm down. What happened, anyway? What are you doing in this alley?" Chance asked softly.

"Abraham and I were were ambushed by a crowd of Blackgate men. We were separated, and now I'm worried he's hurt, or dead." Her voice began to quiver with emotion. "I have to find him, and Jackie Kent."

"I wouldn't do that, Stella." He cautioned. "I just came from there. The GCN truck has been turned over and set on fire."

Stella gasped. "Is she...is Jackie dead?"

"I don't know..." he replied, guiltily remembering his brief affair with the redhead. "Things don't look good for her, but don't you worry about Abraham. He's ex-NFL. He can run a forty-yard dash if he has to."

He surveyed the area cautiously, cursing himself for being a mere engineer. Bane had hired him from one of Daggett's companies. He didn't have the elite training of any of the men who made up the mercenary's best units. How good could he be in a fight?

"Come with me. I'm headed to my club near the waterfront. We'll be a whole lot safer there." Chance told her. "The place has a heavy iron door."

Feeling completely powerless, Stella made a decision. "We're close to City Hall. That's where Bane is, and that's where I should go now. Maybe Abraham made it there."

"Okay, City Hall it is." Chance said, enjoying the opportunity to be chivalrous. "But first I have to lose whoever is tailing me."

At the next block they found five bodies strewn along the street, Blackgate men who had been shot. Horrified, Stella examined the bodies, fearing she would find Abraham among the dead. A similar scene awaited them a few more blocks away. More Blackgate men and three citizens shot to death. There was still no sign of Abraham.

"Looks like the angel of death swept by this corridor. Is this Barsad's handiwork?" Chance inquired.

"I don't know…" Stella replied. "I…I guess I don't know him well enough to recognize his work."

They had just arrived at 'The Docks' when they heard the fast approach of a roaring crowd, and the pounding of urgent feet on the pavement.

"They're coming! That's the sound I heard just before I was swallowed up." Stella cried. "They just came out of nowhere."

"Down!" Chance shouted as he pushed her down a rickety metal ladder that led into the basement stairs of an old warehouse. 'The Docks' looked very similar to 'The Dent Club' on the inside - dim and dusty. Candles still burned on the tables.

"Looks like folks left here in an big hurry." Chance muttered. "Can't say as I blame them. Listen to that mob out there! We'll lay low until the danger has passed." He locked and bolted the Club's massive metal door.

Stella stared at the door, expecting it to be blown open any moment by the violent crowd outside.

"Look at this!" Chance exclaimed from behind the bar. "People were in such a hurry to leave, they didn't bother to steal the booze. How about a drink, Blondie?"

"I don't think so Chance." She was only too aware of the flirtatious man she was locked up with.

"Okay…okay, fair enough." He replied, guessing the reason for her hesitation. "How about we both have some orange juice, then? It's really hard to come by these days."

He had managed to find some first aid supplies and pushed Stella down on a old couch. "You just relax and I'll clean some of those scrapes and scratches on your arms and legs. Did you know you have a cut in your scalp?"

Taking his advice, she reclined on the couch. "I wish we'd found Abraham…" she fretted.

As Chance cleaned her wounds, he asked, "Why did you want to see Jackie Kent at this time of night, Stella?"

Staring cautiously at the philandering engineer, she wondered how much she should tell him. In the end she found the gentle strokes on her wounds reassuring, and she decided to trust him…

"Chance, don't you think there has to be one nuclear scientist in Gotham who could come forward to help? I understand why they might be frightened, having seen what Bane did to Dr. Pavel, but surely one could be convinced to help? I was hoping Jackie could offer some direction. She has — or had — so many connections."

"That's a good question." Chance observed. "It's entirely possible that Bane has already killed them all to keep them from talking." He downed his orange juice in one gulp. "And even if you did manage to find a scientist, you'd have to find the bomb. I hear it's constantly on the move, in trucks. But seriously, I don't get you Stella. You're tight with Bane, you're buddies with his men, but here you are trying to stop the city from exploding. Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"I've asked myself that many times, Chance. I'm a journalist, so impartiality is a requirement for the job. But I allowed myself to become personally involved beyond the magazine piece I'm writing. I became another of Bane's tools when I agreed to write his tabloid. Father Reilly calls it 'propaganda', and of course he's absolutely right. I have to keep reminding myself that if I'd refused, Bane would have killed me. On the other hand, it was raw ambition that factored into my decision, not fear of what he would do to me. Serves me right if I never get another job in journalism."

"Yea… I get you there." Chance agreed. "I'm kind of ashamed of myself too. I joined up because I loved the idea of blowing up bridges, but after that job was done, I was adrift. That's when I started ripping off supply trucks and overcharging for the goods I stole. I tried to date Bane's doctor, had two affairs. Even imagined myself sleeping my way to the top of the League of Shadows. I've done nothing noble here. I just don't have the belief system of these guys. The revolution is bullshit and Bane doesn't give a damn about the people."

"I suppose not." Stella admitted. Feeling the approach of tears, she turned away from Chance, and in the next moment, she fell into a deep sleep. He watched her breathe for several minutes, before joining her on the couch, winding a protective arm around her.

Hours later, Stella awoke to the sight of Chance standing with one ear pressed up against the heavy door. "It's been quiet for about an hour." He observed. "We just might want to make a run for it to City Hall now."

He unbolted the door as quietly as possible as she put on her boots.

"Stella, you should know that a man like Bane can't be reformed. I know a little about that." He said perceptively.

Staring at Chance with growing respect, she realized he wasn't so shallow after all.

"I know." She admitted. "I don't want to reform him. I just want to know how to live with him."

Chance flashed his megawatt smile. "Damn, and here I thought you and I could hook up once this was all over."

"I'm flattered, but no." she said shyly.

He shrugged, and ventured slowly out the door to climb the metal ladder. "Come on up." He said quietly. "The coast is clear." He grabbed her arm and pulled her up to the surface. The sun was rising, the street was quiet, but they were not alone.

A muscled mercenary with shiny black hair appeared out of nowhere, pointing an AK-47 directly at Chance.

"Chance Cooper?" Bruno Terranova asked calmly.

"Ahhh… yea. I'm Chance. You know me, Bruno, from Talia's townhouse, right?" He answered nervously, holding a shocked Stella tightly against him.

"You're under arrest…" Bruno boomed.

"C'mon, man! Put the gun down and stop joking around!" Chance stuttered and blinked uneasily.

"This is no joke, my friend." Terranova threatened. "My orders are to deliver you to Crane's Court for sentencing."

"What the fuck? Chance demanded. "On whose authority?"

"By authority of the daughter of Ra's al Ghul."


	18. Chapter 18

History is Made at Night

by batmanbane

"Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly."

William Shakespeare, As You Like It

Chapter 18

Barsad had only been able to locate one of the passengers Bane had asked him to collect, and he knew the mercenary wouldn't be pleased by the news. He arrived at City Hall well before dawn with only Natasha in tow, after guards at the Daggett building claimed that Stella had left the building earlier that night.

"She is forbidden to be out past curfew, Brother! You should have enforced that." Bane charged, silently cursing the day he'd allowed women to penetrate his organization.

"Our man at the Daggett building says she took Abraham with her, and headed for Jackie Kent's mobile truck. They hadn't returned by the time Natasha was packed and ready to leave, so she and I went looking for them. We found Kent's truck in flames. No sign of anyone inside or out."

"Abraham can look after himself." Bane turned his attention to two nervous underlings. "Find Browning. Do not return without her." He ordered menacingly.

The crowd at Crane's court was on fire — jeering, laughing and screaming obscenities at the non-stop parade of citizens who were rounded up for judgment. Among them, Stella and Chance were being held in a narrow corridor on the east side of the cavernous building, where armed mercenaries watched the two exits.

Stella was seated on the floor, propped against a wall, while Chance was stretched out, his head cradled in her lap.

Minute by minute the engineer was falling apart.

"Stop them! Somebody tell them to shut the fuck up!" He groaned feverishly, covering his ears. "Get that noise out of my head!"

"Maybe Bane is right, and this city is corrupt." Stella mused as she stroked Chance's forehead. "It doesn't take much to turn ordinary citizens into savages. Give them the means to be cruel, and they will. I feel numb, and I just hope I stay that way because it's the only way I can cope, Chance."

Catching the eye of one of the mercenaries at the nearest exit, she waved frantically. "Hey you! Do you speak English? Can you at least give us some water while we wait? We haven't had anything to eat or drink for hours!"

Lazily, the mercenary opened a nearby cooler and retrieved the water. "Make it quick." He warned while handing over two bottles. "Won't be too much longer now."

Chance gulped down half his water and wiped his brow as Stella eyed him up and down.

"Any regrets?" She asked as lightly as possible, wanting to distract herself with conversation.

"Y-yea… lots of them. They're haunting me right now…" He admitted, his voice shaking.

"Alright..." Stella responded, taking deep breaths and trying to calm. "Tell me one of them."

"That's easy!" He said quickly. "I've always wanted to be a teacher — a public school teacher. I love kids, and I think it would be great to influence their young minds and lead them down the right path in life."

"Ha! You'd corrupt them!" Stella huffed. "You'd teach them how to be scam artists."

Chance frowned and shook his head. "No, not in a million years. I'd teach them that to get anything out of this life you've got to put something into it — from the heart."

Completely taken aback by his words, Stella's mouth fell open. "You're… serious, aren't you? I…I think I believe you."

"And I'd make a good teacher, too!" He insisted, expecting further doubts from Stella. "I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, which hindered my personal choices. My family wanted so much more for me than a middle class profession. My being a sleazy guy is rebellion against all that." He offered a small smile, his head still resting comfortably in her lap. "Now it's your turn, Blondie!"

"I don't want to talk about me…" She replied hastily, shaking her head.

"You're not getting off that easy. You brought this subject up. So, what is it you regret?"

She sighed and looked to the heavens to acknowledge her sins. "In pursuit of a story — and potential job offers in New York — I sold myself to a dictator, and got too involved with him for my own good. I'm not proud of it. So now, I'm not even sure I want to publish this story. If I still had a job at Gotham Woman, I'd probably be fired for refusing to write it, but I don't care if I ever work for a magazine again. I'd rather do something different with the material I've written …maybe turn it into a memoir of my days here when I'm old and feeling nostalgic. Or maybe even adapt it as fiction."

"I'd read your fictionalized version, that's for sure!" Chance declared. "Provided we get out of this mess. Then there's the bomb to contend with..."

Stella felt his galloping anxiety as he squeezed her hand tightly.

"I-I'm sorry…" He stammered. "Some people are afraid of flying. I'm afraid of dying."

"Don't give up! Someone at the Daggett building will have noticed I'm missing by now, and they'll come looking for me. Abraham could walk in any minute, if he's still alive." She wanted to be as positive as possible for Chance's sake.

"Sure! You might be saved, but Bane will have me killed for sure! No matter how you slice it, I'm in a fix — because I got greedy."

Stella managed a soft chuckle. "Well then!" She said as she leaned over and looked into his pretty blue eyes. "We have a lot in common, don't we?"

Inside the main courtroom, the noise had increased as another group was herded into the massive space for an audience with Judge Jonathan Crane. Bane stood offside the spacious bi-level courtroom, unaware of Stella's presence nearby. He watched with interest as Commissioner James Gordon and his entourage were sentenced. The sun had begun to set as he ordered Barsad to collect Miranda Tate from Gordon's group, and left the courthouse with his prisoner.

Not long after Bane made his exit, the shuffling mercenary pushed Stella and Chance before Crane. The judge was pleased with his latest acquisitions.

"The arrest order mentions only one man but we have an unexpected bonus. A round of applause here for the arresting mercenary, Bruno Terranova, whose search for Mr. Cooper turned up Ms. Browning as well!"

The gallery of vengeful citizens erupted in cheers and cries for blood.

"Step forward Chance Kennedy Cooper and Stella Louise Browning." If anything, Crane resembled a child in his high chair, banging a rattle. "We'll skip the charges." He shrugged, striking his gavel once more. "It's late and this is merely a sentencing hearing."

Hand in hand, Stella and Chance approached Crane's enormous, makeshift bench…

"Judge Crane, this is a mistake." Stella claimed, her voice trembling. "If you'd just talk to Bane, he'll clear it up. I'm not supposed to be here. You know I work for him."

"So do I!" Chance chimed in. "I'm not living off the backs of the people. "I'm with his engineering unit. I blew up the bridges, and I shouldn't be here either!"

Banging his gavel repeatedly, Crane interrupted. "Bane has no authority here! And it might have escaped your notice…but Bane's employees usually end up… dead!"

"Shit!" Cooper wailed. "What about my nine lives? Where's my ace in the hole?" He looked around the courtroom helplessly as the crowd cheered for more from the man once renowned as the villainous 'Scarecrow'.

"Quiet in the court!" Crane demanded, suddenly bored by the proceedings. "What'll it be, folks - Death or Exile?"

They watched in horror as groups of terrified citizens negotiated the unstable ice of Gotham River. Very few made it safely to the other side. Mostly the ice gave way, and the river cruelly swallowed its victims.

Stella thought of all the times she told Bane that she didn't need rescuing. But now… she needed his help desperately, and she wasn't going to get it.

In the years to come, would he remember her? Or would he leave Gotham, never giving her another thought? Her lips trembled as she finally faced the gravity of her situation.

Next to her, Chance sobbed hopelessly "Hold me, Stella! I don't want to drown…"

She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his chest, staring at the river with a haunted expression. There was a group already out on the ice, very still. Strangely, all of them seemed safe for the moment.

"Maybe you won't have to…" She said curiously. "Focus on that group of men out there. I'm pretty sure the one in the middle is Commissioner Gordon. There's something happening, some sort of delay… Why aren't they falling through the ice?"

The unnerved engineer trembled violently, but was eager to concentrate on anything other than his own imminent demise. "Yea…" he agreed, as he raised his head to view the scene. "Something is happening out there."

In the next moment, armed mercenaries and inmates staggered around them, one by one dropping unconscious to the ground. Many of them grabbed the backs of their necks before collapsing.

Out on the ice, Commissioner James Gordon lit a fuse that tore across the ice around his men, and travelled up battered walls on the opposite side of the river. Those on the shore and on the ice watched in fascination as the fiery thread advanced onwards and upwards, climaxing into an enormous flaming image atop the Midtown Bridge.

"What…" Stella whispered incredulously. "…is that?"

"Jesus… it's the Batman…" Chance exclaimed in disbelief. "Bane is just gonna kick his ass all over again..."

As the flaming symbol burned, mercenaries continued to drop around them, and Stella instinctively understood that they should do the same…

"Get down!" She whispered as she pulled Chance down to the freezing pavement.

They lay quietly for several seconds, feigning unconsciousness, until Stella opened one eye to peek out onto the ice. All was quiet, except for distant voices.

"Is that really the Batman?" She whispered, staring intently at a man in a black cowl and cape. She'd only ever read about him and seen grainy photos in the tabloids.

"The one and only." Chance replied quietly.

Eventually, the Batman disappeared from the scene, and Gordon and his men left shortly thereafter.

No one had fallen through the ice.

"I think we should get going before these men wake up." Chance whispered to Stella. "Let's run for it now."

They slipped away into the night and began the walk to City Hall. As they slowly worked their way through the shadows, they heard the approach of a crowd, celebrating.

"Hey, why the party?" Chance asked, stopping one young reveler who was shouting enthusiastically and waving a huge flag.

"Where have you been, Dude?" The boy asked excitedly. "Batman rescued the police from the sewers!"

"What's the news on the bomb?" Chance asked quickly.

"Don't know, Dude, but we at least have a chance now!" He shouted as he and his fellow revelers marched off, making way for the sound of approaching high heels as a black clad young woman emerged from the darkness, strolling confidently as if she owned the night.

Stella gaped in fascination, more than a little envious of the woman's outfit, considering her own soiled khaki clothing and unwashed hair. The woman wore a form-fitting leather body suit, thigh high stiletto boots, and a black mask. The goggles sitting atop her head held back glossy brunette hair that swung down her back. Most prominent was the slash of red lipstick on her mouth, expertly applied. There was something familiar about the woman that Stella couldn't quite place, but the leather-clad beauty knew Stella immediately.

"Well, well." The brunette observed with a sense of detachment. "What brings you out after curfew?

"We were arrested and sentenced to Exile, but the Batman came back… and we got away!" Stella told her breathlessly. "Hey, I know you from somewhere, don't I?"

The brunette's smug grin sobered, and she took two bold steps toward Stella, speaking lowly. "I told you he'd try to kill you once he was done with you."

With those words Stella instantly recognized Selina, the woman who had refused to help dig Bane out of the rubble the day her aunt and uncle's fireplace collapsed on him. Now she was angry that Stella had not heeded her warning.

"No… my arrest was just an accident." The journalist declared, wondering why Selina was wearing a mask. "He didn't try to kill me."

Selina looked away, stifling a contemptuous snort. "Dream on, honey!" She drawled.

Stella swallowed hard, as Selina's words began to stick. Did Bane arrange to have her arrested? Was it possible that he had always intended for her to die? She gulped again, and all of a sudden she felt very cold.

"You had to save him." Selina continued. "This city might have had a chance if you'd just let him die. Now time is up, and everyone is scrambling. Exactly what he wanted..."

"I…." Stella stammered, overwhelmed by Selina's words. "I'm not to blame for all this…" she protested.

"Hey! Just who the hell do you think you are anyway?" Chance demanded. "She hasn't done anything wrong!"

"I don't have time for any more chit-chat, honey." Selina's gloved fingers stroked Chance's sculpted face, and she sauntered into the darkness. "I have a very late date with tall, dark and handsome. See you around."

Bane watched Bruce's fiery message from the roof of City Hall as it smouldered endlessly atop the Midtown Bridge. The mercenary was even more disturbed than he would admit. He'd just ordered the security of Talia, and learned that Bruce had released the Gotham Police from the sewers. Now he moved choice men to the building's mezzanine level, where they would have a clear view of Grand Avenue.

Mace Roque, the senior mercenary stationed at Crane's Court, waited to report. He was responsible for the smooth running of the courthouse when Bane couldn't be present. He had bad news to deliver, and he feared the mercenary's reaction.

"Stella Browning was brought before Judge Crane shortly after you left the court this afternoon." He began reluctantly.

Bane's brow wrinkled deeply. "By whose order?" He demanded.

"By no one's order. Talia issued a warrant for Chance Cooper. When he was located, he was with Browning. So Talia's man arrested her as well."

"What was she doing with Chance Cooper?" Bane growled, as a vicious streak of jealousy tore through his body. The prospect of the handsome troublemaker romancing Stella was too much for him to handle this night. "She is my property!"

"We don't know why she was with him, Sir." Mace continued reluctantly.

"So… you are here to confirm that you stopped the sentencing from being carried out." Bane's manner was threatening, his eyes throbbing and his skin flushed.

The tall, lanky Roque gulped nervously. "Judge Crane was very unhappy that you overruled his authority when you took Miranda Tate from Gordon's group. He refused to comply with my order."

Bane snarled menacingly at the nervous mercenary. "And that is when you killed him!" He suggested dangerously.

"I did not kill him!" The stoic Roque admitted. "The crowd at Crane's Court is one of the most vicious enemies I've ever encountered. Few have weapons, but living like animals has fueled their limited skills. They worship Crane. There are more of them than we have mercenaries in the courtroom. If I had shot him, they would have retaliated, tearing apart a dozen of our top men before we could overcome them."

Bane stood completely still, blinking once at Roque, who was one of his most competent men.

"I had to make a decision." Roque continued to explain. "Rather than kill the judge and risk our men, I allowed the sentences to be carried out. We're going to need every man we have when the sun comes up." Mace oozed perspiration from every pore.

Bane felt his body grow cold. Ruthlessly he held out his twitchy fingers as Barsad reluctantly dropped a pistol into his hand. "You will allow me to be the judge of that, Mr. Roque. Bring my coat, Brother." He croaked. "I will personally kill the Scarecrow. He will die slowly, in my bare hands." He then turned to address the perspiring Mace Roque. "But first, I will kill you."

"Stop this, Bane!" Natasha crossed the room and gripped Bane's massive bicep. "There's been enough death for one day." She begged. The doctor's eyes were red with tears. "Stella and Chance are gone, and no one knows what happened to Abraham! Killing Crane and this man won't bring them back. If you do, I can't help you. I won't recruit surgeons for you."

In the midst of the melee, a disapproving presence had entered the room and hovered nearby. She had shed her 'Miranda Tate' wardrobe for the last time in favour of a Demon Head's dress uniform, which concealed her growing belly.

"Have you lost your mind, Bane?" She demanded harshly. "In a few hours, I honour my father, and you are distracted? Clear the room this instant before I have every non-essential delivered to the Scarecrow, she ordered, glaring specifically at Dr. Natasha Van Dyne.

Bane walked over the mezzanine's expanse of windows, saying nothing as he stared bleakly into the darkness of the night.

Eventually he spoke. "What matters is our plan."

Talia nodded in approval, smiling at him as if he were a small child, but her steely gaze soon returned to stare down the diminutive Dr. Van Dyne.

"I don't know what you had in mind for Bane, Doctor, but he will be leaving with me tomorrow. The league physicians will look after him, as they have always done."

Natasha frowned judgmentally. "How could you allow him to suffer all these years?" She asked quietly. "You're a disgrace to humanity!"

"Enough!" Bane growled. "Barsad, take Dr. Van Dyne to the deputy mayor's office, and make sure she is safe and comfortable. I have no wish to lose her as well." He cast warning glances at Roque, and Talia.

The daughter of Ra's al Ghul broke the silence once Barsad and Natasha left the mezzanine area.

"I'm truly sorry for the loss of your journalist, Bane. I can't help but feel disappointed that her story will never see print! Perhaps she will be published posthumously?"

"I'm afraid I destroyed all copies of her story as well as her research and notes. That was my call, Talia, and in our best interests. The League's work is my work as well, and must remain in the shadows. I could not risk her finding a way to smuggle her story out of the city before detonation. If you are so eager to see yourself immortalized, perhaps that Kent woman can accommodate you, if she is still alive." He suggested sourly. "The woman is promiscuous, and I wouldn't be surprised if she sold herself to one of our men in order to get her reports out of the city."

Talia wrinkled her nose. "Mediocre tabloid hack!" she hissed. "At least your little Stella gave me the respect I deserve."

In no mood to tolerate Talia's vanity, Bane turned to the window again, feeling empty inside for more than one reason.

"Center yourself, Bane." Talia instructed softly from behind him. He could see her reflection staring back at him in the dark window.

"You have allowed too many distractions during our time in Gotham — journalists, doctors, your jealousy of Bruce. Let it all go now, and focus on the next few hours…"

"You are a fine one to accuse me of distraction." He spoke resentfully to her reflection. "We have always been family, but now that will change. I know you well, and you will find a way to bring Bruce back to the League for your own selfish desires." He stopped short of saying that he wanted nothing to do with her bastard child.

"I understand your feelings, Bane. I changed the plan, and that worries you. I promise you that I have no intention of luring him back to the League. When we finish here, you and I will return home and we'll be a family again." She insisted. "There is no need to kill Bruce, when punishing him at a distance through his child will bring greater rewards. I think my father would approve."

"Have you considered that your lover may die in the blast, Talia?"

Talia suppressed a small smile. "He is the Batman, Bane. He survived you, didn't he?"

Bane's fists clenched repeatedly at his sides. "I am with you now, Talia, and I will be with you tomorrow, but I finish this thing only for you. When Gotham is ashes, I am done with your father." His eyes flashed dangerously, and his twitching fingers threatened.

Chance swept Stella into a huge bear hug after they rounded a corner and found themselves at a rear entrance of City Hall.

"Thank you for everything you did for me back there! I was a coward, and I completely humiliated myself, and I don't deserve you." He said somewhat awkwardly.

"We were both scared! Don't be embarrassed. If I hadn't had you to look after, I would have been a wreck, so thank you for being there for me!" Frowning, she added, "What is it, Chance? Why do I suddenly get the feeling this is 'goodbye'?"

Chance didn't answer. "Do you think you can get yourself safely inside from here? I have to run now!"

"Run? Run where?" Stella blinked confusedly.

"There's something I have to do, Stella. I thought I lost my 'ace in the hole' back there in Scarecrow's Court, but I was wrong. I never lost it! I just didn't know how to use it until now!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" She shouted. "Don't abandon me now! We should try to find a nuclear physicist!"

Chance darted across the street, waving at her from the other side. "It's too late for that! Don't worry, we'll see each other again!"

"Wait! Just tell me where you're going!" She hollered.

"Police Headquarters!" He called, as he disappeared down an alley.

Too exhausted to manage the stairs, Stella spotted the building directory and rode a freight elevator to the third floor cafeteria, where she found a row of refrigerators that had all been chained locked.

"Damn it!" She swore, pounding the counter with her fist and looking around desperately for another source of food.

Hunger wasn't the only reason why she was so angry.

She'd dug Bane out from under a collapsed fireplace because it was the right thing to do. Now she suspected that Bane arranged to have her killed because he had no further use for her, just as Selina claimed.

It had to be true! Hadn't Jonathan Crane said it himself? Bane's employees usually end up dead.

Spying a machine that dispensed junk food against the far wall, she impulsively picked up a metal chair and viciously slammed it against the machine, breaking glass and denting metal.

She'd let him touch her…

Huffing and puffing, she grabbed another chair, swinging it hard against the glass that remained in the damaged machine.

She'd wanted him to touch her…

She reached inside the machine and grabbed two items, then collapsed into a leather chair, washing down a stale oatmeal bar with tepid water.

She barely jumped when the cafeteria door was blown open from the hallway, presumably with a high-powered weapon. As the dust cleared, the dark shadow of a man became visible in the doorway …

"What the hell do you want?" Stella raged uncharacteristically. "At least give me a chance to finish eating? I'm starving!"

The man quickly placed his assault weapon at his side, and hurried into the room.

"S-Stella?"


	19. Chapter 19

History is Made at Night

 

Chapter 19

Ordinarily Stella would have been thrilled to see Abraham, but Selina had bitterly reminded her that Bane didn't leave loose ends.

"Abraham..." She returned to a seated position on the large leather couch. "You're here to kill me... because he wants me dead."

The ex-NFL player's expression contorted in a mixture of anger and relief at the sight of the woman for whom he'd been searching the last two days. He had greatly feared the prospect of reporting back to Bane empty-handed. "I'm n-not here to k-kill you! I've been l-looking all over for you! Where have you been?" He demanded.

Stella rose to her feet, meeting his emotional state with one of her own. "Don't start on me!" She complained. "Do you have any idea of what I've been through in the last 48 hours? Not to mention being worried about you! I couldn't find you after those Blackgate boys swarmed us. All I remember is a filthy alley!"

"A few guys recognized you and wanted revenge for what you did to Monk. They knocked you down, so I went after them and picked them all off, but when I came b-back, you were gone. We agreed that you would stay put if we got separated!"

Stella was taken aback by an aggressive side of Abraham she'd never seen before, and she suddenly realized he was responsible for all the bodies that she and Chance had encountered in the streets.

"I apologize." She said, backing down. "But I ran into Chance Cooper, who he took me to a safe place, but we were arrested and taken to Crane's Court. We only escaped because the Batman showed up. After that, we heard he released the police from underground."

"Yeah, he blew a h-hole in the reservoir at Ackerman Park, and now three thousand c-cops are massing at the bottom of Grand Avenue. As soon as the sun c-comes up, there's gonna be war."

"Bane really can't be going through with his destruction of the city, can he? It's crazy. You and I have to do something..."

"Nope, I'm in this to the end." The black man answered determinedly. "We're leaving the c-city before it explodes, and I have orders to t-take you with us!"

"I don't want to die, Abraham, but how can I live with myself if I leave? Find the corrupt and punish them, but there are too many innocents who don't deserve this. Where can I find Bane? I need to reason with him. I'll do anything to stop him. I'll be his prisoner for the rest of my life only please, please he can't bomb the city!"

"Stop it, S-Stella!" Abraham ordered. "Isn't it a little l-late to develop a c-conscience?"

"I've always had a conscience, Abraham. I just never really faced the fact that there was going to be a nuclear explosion. I was too busy imagining journalistic glory." She confessed bitterly. She knew only too well that Abraham was right.

"There's no w-way he can stop it from happening, and even if he c-could, it's all for Talia, and he'll never d-disappoint her. You're leaving with us. You s-stay right where you are until I c-come for you. Do you hear me? Bane will have my head if anything h-happens to you!"

As the sun rose, Bane and Barsad made their appearance on the colonnade atop the stairs, scanning the moving mass of blue and black uniforms spilling from the bottom of Grand Avenue to the foot of City Hall.

The silence of three thousand police officers was more than palpable to Barsad as he shuddered inwardly.

From her position at the building's mezzanine windows, Talia surveyed the street below like a General on the sidelines.

At the intersection of Main and Grand, the army of mercenaries was more than ready to take on the police. Suddenly, one of the Batman's tumblers pulled from behind the men, it's turret gun ready for action. "Disburse or be fired upon!" A mercenary ordered from inside the vehicle.

"We will see how fit they are, having lived underground for several months. This will not be a long battle, Brother!" Bane growled haughtily to his second-in-command as he clutched the lapels of his shearling coat.

"We have the firepower to take them out all at once." Barsad murmured. "Why risk any more of our men in battle?"

Bane considered his second's words carefully. In the last few days, his pride in his accomplishments within the city had steadily eroded. Did any of it matter if he could no longer trust Talia? Did his life have any meaning at all if Bruce Wayne's child pushed him aside? And although he believed he was a remorseless man, he could not purge the image of Stella plunging through the ice to her death. He strongly sensed the hollowness inside him would only become worse in the days ahead.

He exhaled loudly through the mask, a sound that reverberated in the silent street. "I would normally welcome an old-fashioned brawl. However, I am eager to leave this wretched city as quickly as possible. I defer to your excellent advice, Brother."

"Open fire." He ordered, as he turned away from the street.

As suddenly as Bane spoke, a flying bat-like object object swooped noisily from behind an office building, it's own cannons easily destroying the turret gun fixed on the police.

The startled mercenary recognized the same jet helicraft in which Bruce and Selina Kyle had escaped from the Daggett building. He had tried in vain to locate the vehicle afterwards, but his men could never get a fix on it.

Three thousand police officers cheered at the sight of the Batman and they charged forward to city hall.

"Looks like you'll have your brawl after all." Barsad grimaced as he and Bane pushed their way down the grand stairs through the upward surge of bodies.

Elsewhere, Selina Kyle sat in position on the bat pod, surveying her work. As per the Batman's instructions, she had just blasted a giant hole through the debris inside the Midtown Tunnel as soon as she'd heard the battle cry of the police force.

A grin of satisfaction spread across her face. She was free at last, having rejected Bruce's appeals to stay and help him fight, but the grin didn't last long. Impulsively she fired up the pod's engines and tore off in the direction of City Hall.

Bane easily dispatched half a dozen police officers on his way down the the grand stairs, stripping off his heavy shearling coat in the process.

There had been little time for him to contemplate Bruce's near impossible feat – returning from the Pit. He only knew Bruce's return was enough to take seriously. There was no doubt in his mind that the ex-billionaire had returned to Gotham. He could feel it in his bones. As long as Bruce lived, the plan was threatened, no matter how close to the end.

As it turned out, Bruce was even closer than Bane imagined. A sea of police officers parted, revealing the man Bane thought he had broken. He could barely contain his amusement at the sight of the never-say-die Bruce Wayne, who had apparently returned for more punishment.

"So you came back to die with your city!" He rumbled smugly...

Theirs wasn't a long battle after all, because during his time in the Pit, Bruce had learned of Bane's achilles' heel...

In fighting him this time, Bruce concentrated sharp punches to the mask until he had dislodged one of its largest delivery cylinders, depriving the mercenary of much needed pain relief. Bane groaned in pain, and desperately tried to reconnect the cylinder before eventually abandoning the task, his flailing fists taking out their rage on a nearby pillar. It was his last act of violence before his resistance began to fade. Bruce brutally kicked him through the glass doors of City Hall's lobby, where the man in the broken mask collapsed with pain he could no longer ignore.

"Cover the doors!" Bruce tossed a rifle to the woman he knew as Miranda Tate and resumed his battering of Bane.

"Where is it? Where's the trigger?" He screamed as he hauled the downed mercenary up from the floor to face him, landing a disabling punch to yet another cylinder. "Where is it? Where is it? You'd never give it to an ordinary citizen!"

Incapacitated by pain, Bane's body quivered uncontrollably as he dropped to the floor in a near fetal position. "Ah-ah-ah-ah..." The mask sputtered, and Bane began to lose consciousness. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so compromised. Yet even in his incapacitated state he recognized that he could still provide distraction away from Talia, who hovered nearby with a knife, ready to strike.

"I broke you…" He spoke in shamed tones from the lobby floor, wanting to keep Bruce's attention. "How is it you have come back?"

And then Bruce came face to face with the woman he thought he trusted, when she stabbed him in his side. In answer to his brutal demands of Bane, she revealed the trigger in her right hand, and like a spiteful child she pulled it away from the weakened Bruce when he tried to take it from her.

Revealing her true identity as the child of Ra's al Ghul, she related the story she shared with Bane, from their tragedy in the Pit to Bane's ex-communication from the League of Shadows, all the while twisting the knife in Bruce's abdomen.

"His only crime was that he loved me." She explained, glancing at the downed mercenary affectionately as if he were a small child. Gently she reconnected the dislodged pain-relief cylinders of the mask.

A tear rolled down Bane's cheek as he listened to Talia speak. In the last few days he had doubted and mistrusted her. But now he beamed with pride at the sight of his little charge assuming command.

But that pride was short-lived, because much to Bane's despair, she changed the plan again.

"It's only a flesh wound, Bruce. I carry your child, dear." She confessed. "Forget Gotham. Leave with me and we will raise our heir together." She whispered. "You were always my father's favourite student, despite his hatred for you in the end. I think he would be pleased."

She had promised Bane faithfully that she would never try to lure Bruce to the monastery, and now she was doing just that.

Though enduring the pain of a stab wound and her stunning revelations, Bruce bluntly refused.

"You're insane." He panted through his pain. "Just as he was!"

Now recovered from his pain, with his hatred for Bruce at full throttle, Bane rose, gathering a tether and the rifle Bruce had thrown to Talia. He wound the tether around Bruce's neck, pulling him off the floor as if to reign in a mad dog.

Talia's expression turned cold. "Have it your way, Bruce. You will die then. Your child will die. We will all die." In retaliation, the scorned madwoman hit the trigger, but to no effect, because Commissioner Gordon had delayed detonation with technology supplied by Bruce.

Meanwhile, Barsad charged into the lobby. "The trigger's under attack." He confirmed. He was very worried about Natasha's fate now that Talia had changed the plan. He couldn't help but hope that not everyone in Gotham would die in the explosion.

"Don't kill him." Talia cautioned Bane, as she looked down at the helpless, wheezing Bruce. "I want him to feel the heat."

Bane glanced at her with an expression that suggested he was not comfortable with her orders. How could she ask such a thing of him when he was a man known for always finishing the job?

"Feel the fire of 12 million souls you failed." Talia said smugly.

Bruce squirmed helplessly. "No…" He pleaded against the tightening tether.

At last, Talia raised herself from the floor, and gently began to map Bane's repaired mask with her fingers, committing it to memory. Bane's heart lurched, understanding the moment only too well.

"Goodbye my friend." She said.

The devastated mercenary blinked a sad, disappointed farewell. With wet eyes, he watched her march determinedly out the front door, and out of what little life he had left. She had changed the plan again, and now they would all die.

Now he looked down at the man who had come between him and the only family he'd ever known, or ever would know, and his testosterone roared to life.

"We both know that I have to kill you, now." Viciously, he kicked Bruce in his wounded abdomen, yanked him up from the floor and pressed the rifle into his face.

"You'll just have to imagine the fire!" He shouted gleefully.

The last thing Bane remembered was a flash of firepower that couldn't possibly have come from his rifle. The force of the unknown blast sent him tumbling down a corridor in a rumpled heap, and everything went black.

Selina had just burst through the broken doors of City Hall and blasted him with the bat pod's cannons. The fallen Bane was instantly forgotten as she and Bruce planned their assault on the truck carrying the bomb.

Talia led a convoy of tumblers through the streets, intending to keep the truck protected and on the move until the bomb exploded. Cruelly, she had her gunners open fire on the mob of police, so the tumblers could get through. After a lengthy chase, her own vehicle caught up with the truck, and with all the grace of a League of Shadows warrior, she popped out of the roof of the tumbler and pulled herself into the cab of the speeding truck. When her driver was hit by friendly fire, she ably took over the wheel.

In the air, Bruce volleyed between evading smart missiles from his own tumblers while at the same time trying take the vehicles out. On the ground, Selina protected Bruce, causing serious damage to several tumblers with the bat pod's cannons.

With the tumblers disabled, Bruce concentrated on the speeding truck that carried the bomb, little realizing that Talia herself was driving. He lowered the Bat along the left side of the truck, shooting out a row of tires. The damaged wheels caused the vehicle to lurch dangerously back and forth at high speed. Fearing the truck would roll, Talia pumped the brake repeatedly, until the vehicle staggered for several thousand feet before coming to a screeching, shuddering halt.

A phalanx of police cars surrounded the truck, with Commissioner James Gordon jumping out of the lead car. He had a hunch about who was inside, based on the information he'd learned. Wrenching open the door of the cab, he trained his assault weapon on the occupant. An army of police officers with similar weapons circled the vehicle.

Talia al Ghul raised her hands obediently, as she slid carefully along the seat of the truck's cab and prepared to jump. In no way did she want to compromise the potential hold she might still have on Bruce, who hovered nearby with the cat burglar.

"Step down out of the cab, and don't try anything or by God, my men will shoot to kill!" Gordon threatened deliriously.

Talia ignored Gordon, training her most plaintive Miranda Tate voice on the only person who mattered.

"Bruce!" She cooed, as she dropped gracefully to the pavement. "Remember the child. Please… take me to my helicopter. We will escape and raise our child together."

But Gordon pressed on. "Your father failed to destroy this city, and so will you. We know who you are, Ms. al Ghul. One of your own turned you in!"

Defiance gleamed in Talia's beautiful blue eyes. Who could have done such a thing? Bane? Barsad? Bruno? She had callously abandoned them all at City Hall...

A burly, grey-haired officer secured Talia's ankles with a double set of chained metal cuffs. "Be careful, you fool!" she ordered harshly. "I'm pregnant!"

"Congratulations ma'm. But you're still under arrest." The older officer said cheerfully as he slapped a third pair of cuffs on her wrists. The police were taking no chances, with four officers ready to confine her with a waiting net should the warrior manage to escape her shackles.

"Bruce, please! Tell them to release me! The bomb is going to blow." She begged. "The child and I... we need you!"

"You're lying!" Selina spat, furious at Talia's claim. It didn't matter that the woman had been revealed to be Talia al Ghul. To Selina she would always be the stuck up Miranda Tate, whom she had loathed on first sight.

The Batman's expression was grim. Unlike Selina, he didn't know what to believe, and at that moment he didn't have time to think about it...

"I'll let Gordon deal with you!" Bruce turned away from her as Talia was pushed through the back doors of a waiting police van.

With the help of Selina, Gordon, and the police, the Batman tethered the bomb to his jet helicopter and prepared to fly it out into the bay.

A dazed Barsad struggled to his feet on the steps of City Hall. He had sustained a bullet wound to his left leg as he prepared to join Talia in the tumbler, and she'd left without him. His weapon had gone missing, so he hobbled through the broken doors of the lobby to retrieve the rifle he'd spotted on the floor.

An eerie silence greeted him inside, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Where was the Batman's body, when he should have been dead by Bane's hand by now? More to the point, where was Bane? As he leaned over to retrieve the rifle, he noticed wide tire tracks along the terrazzo floor, and his eyes followed them until they came to a halt in the centre of the cavernous room.

Looking up from the floor he instantly spotted a body, and his eyes misted over as he recognized the clothing, and the now-charred vest.

"No..." He murmured aloud as he blinked back tears.

Despite his wound he was at Bane's side in three giant strides, kneeling to search for vital signs. The wounded mercenary was very still, but his eyelashes fluttered continuously, as if he were trying to keep himself awake.

"Hold on tight, Brother!" Barsad shouted as he squeezed Bane's hand. With his remaining hand, he pulled his walkie talkie out of his jacket.

"Natasha!" He yelled. "Have a gurney waiting at the elevator entrance on the roof, and bring a defibrillator! Get Nehme to help you! Bane's hurt!" When he and Abraham stole two flying hospitals from Gotham City General Hospital for their escape, he never actually considered that they might actually require the helicopters' medical services...

On the third floor, Abraham had just left Stella to join the fighting out on the street. She'd watched in horror as she witnessed a tumbler's guns mow down a line of police officers. Now she heard a familiar voice firing orders, as a very much alive Jackie Kent burst into the cafeteria with three cameramen in tow. She too had found her way inside City Hall, and had captured the mayhem from various vantage points.

"We're all going to win Peabody awards for this." She assured her camera operators. "Now, let's get these windows broken!" Then she rounded on Stella, addressing the brown-eyed journalist enthusiastically.

"Hi, Kid! Isn't this a glorious day?" She enthused.

"Jackie! I thought you were dead! Your truck was overturned and burned!"

"You're damn right it was. My crew and I totalled it! That little Barsad creep kept interfering with us, stopping my guys from filming. I had to make him think we were dead to throw him off our scent."

Stella frowned judgmentally. "You're pretty happy for someone who was hiding a bottle and missing her husband the last time I saw her!" She observed sourly.

"What can I say? I don't care if the bomb goes off. Dead or not, We're going to be immortal because of our work here." The reporter claimed, nodding towards her crew. "I ran into an old lover, and he's already begun bouncing our reports to the mainland."

Stella shook her head incredulously. "Chance Cooper strikes again." She guessed, as Jackie smirked.

Barsad slid his hands under Bane's shoulders, pulling the heavy man further down the corridor by his jacket. Stopping in front of the freight elevator he pounded desperately on the "down" button.

"C'mon... c'mon.." The sniper fretted loudly.

The door rolled open lazily, and in his haste Barsad nearly slammed into the ancient, gate-like inner door that separated him from the man inside.

"Abraham!" He shouted. "Give me a hand! Bane's injured!"

Abraham slid the gate open with an alarmed expression. "Oh my G-God!" He exclaimed as he ripped off his jacket and covered Bane. "Keep him warm!" He slammed the butt of his hand against the third floor button.

"What the hell are you doing?" Barsad yelled. "We have to go to the rooftop now!"

Abraham ignored Barsad as the door slid opened on the third floor, and he pushed the gate open.

"S-Stella!" Abraham shouted into the hallway. "The freight elevator! Now!"

In the cafeteria, Jackie Kent was before the cameras, delivering a blistering commentary on the mass execution of police officers by a woman resembling Miranda Tate.

Stella backed out of the room, watching the scene. She was sorry, so very sorry that she couldn't say goodbye to the radiant redhead, who was doing the work she was born to do. Instead, she turned and tore down the hallway in the direction of Abraham's voice.

At the end of the hall, Abraham pulled her into the elevator and slammed the gate shut. "Now we're going to the r-rooftop!" He assured Barsad, as he pounded another button.

Stella's vision gradually focused on the floor of the lumbering elevator car, where Barsad was busy tending to his wounded superior officer. Suddenly all became clear to her, and she dropped to her knees with a sob.

"Wh-what happened?" She screamed.

The second-in-command had no time to question both Stella and Abraham's sudden reappearance, when he thought they'd both been lost.

"Something hit him..." He answered gruffly. "A high-powered weapon shot by someone on a two-wheeled vehicle. Judging from the tire tracks, it was that souped up motorcycle Wayne was driving the night Bane knocked over the Stock Exchange."

What he couldn't understand was Bane's reversal of fortune. He had only left the lobby for a moment, and at that time Bane was preparing to kill the Batman. When he had returned, Bane was unconscious and the Batman was gone.

"Help me get this vest off, so we can inspect the damage." Barsad ordered hastily.

"Stay alive!" She shouted at the wounded mercenary as her trembling hands reached under Abraham's jacket to struggle with the vest's complicated buckles. "You stay alive! The last few days had been traumatic for her, but paled in comparison to what she was feeling now...

The elevator finally opened to the rooftop, and Abraham shoved the rear gate aside to make way for Dr. Natasha Van Dyne. The assigned pilot, Benjamin Nehme, accompanied the petite physician with a readied medical gurney. By now, the mercenary's fluttering eyelashes had slowed.

It took the combined efforts of Barsad, Nehme, Stella and Natasha to load Bane onto the gurney and roll him to the helicopter. Abraham stayed back, disabling the elevator with several blasts to its panel. Once his work was done, he sprinted towards the helicopter. leaping inside as it lifted off. It was the fastest 40 yards the ex-football player had ever had ever run.

Natasha and Barsad feverishly began to work on Bane, hooking him up to a monitor and administering the paddles that would deliver an electric charge to his stilled heart. "We need to stop the bleeding!" The doctor shouted to Barsad over the noise of the aircraft. Together they worked to save the mercenary, as if they'd been a team for years.

Abraham wrapped his arm around Stella's waist, pulling her away from the scene. "We're in the w-way." He strapped her into a nearby seat and sat down next to her.

Two fat tears rolled down her cheeks as she stared out the window. She was deeply ashamed that Abraham was witness to her emotions... but she couldn't stop the flow.

"L-look!" He exclaimed as they both watched a mushrooming cloud in the distance. "Gotham is ashes!

For six days Stella lay huddled on a dingy, narrow bunk, felled by seasickness and a blinding headache, only stirring to stagger to the washroom, or to be sick into a bucket. Natasha put her on an IV of painkillers and something for the nausea, and she slept for most of the time. She endured vivid dreams of the Blackgate man she'd accidentally killed, and of not being able to escape before the bomb exploded. Whenever she woke she asked about Bane, fearing the worst.

At one point, she woke to Barsad hovering concernedly over her. "Natasha wants you to eat something." He told her.

"I can't, Barsad. How is he?" She whined, squinting as she rolled over to face him.

"He's looking better than you are. Real cranky too. That's a good sign."

Finally, the rusted freighter that had been their sanctuary for nearly a week docked, and the group was smuggled in the darkness into two large vehicles.

Again, Stella slept through most of the trip, vaguely aware of Abraham sitting next to her. Eventually the vehicles slowed, and began a long, winding drive before finally coming to a halt. They were led into a grand manor house, with rows of multi-paned windows.

A genteel grey-haired woman named Brigitte showed her to her room, saying, "You will find everything you need in the armoire and bureau, Mademoiselle."

Despite her fatigue, Stella wrenched open the massive armoire in her room, discovering a neat row of dresses and casual wear. "This is designer clothing!" She claimed, inspecting the labels with shock.

"The master wants the best for you." Brigitte assured her.

It was then that Stella's brain caught up with the present, and she wanted to know just where in the hell she was, and in whose house...

"Who is 'the master'?" She demanded. "And where are we?"

"The masked man!" She whispered discreetly. "Mr. Barsad owns the property, but the master is in charge. He'll explain everything to you tomorrow. Now, Mademoiselle. A shower for you, and bed. I will bring your dinner tray."

Stella awoke the next morning in a four-poster bed to find that her barely touched dinner tray had been replaced by a breakfast tray. She felt so much better that she ate the entire breakfast before submitting to another shower. The sun was bright, and she was pleased to discover a small terrace off her room.

Once she passed through the doors, she was confronted with fields of rolling green. Grey mountains stood guard in the distance. And it dawned on her that she was smack in the middle of a vineyard.

Searching through the designer fashions in her armoire, she quickly chose a sleeveless top and slim skirt. She also found footwear of every kind, underwear and cosmetics.

Leaving her room, she found Natasha careening down a flight of stairs. "You look so much better this morning." The doctor exclaimed, observing her closely.

"'I'm feeling fine. I just needed to get off that ship."

"Bane's suite is just down the hall. The rest of us are in the other wing. Barsad and I ... we're sharing..." The bespectacled doctor admitted.

Stunned, Stella pulled Natasha into a hug. " I had no idea!" She blustered... "Barsad is a good man..."

"We were always attracted to one another, but things really heated up for us on the ship!" The once tight-lipped doctor now seemed to revel in the details of her romance.

Now inside Bane's large suite, she spotted the back of his masked head out on his terrace, where he appeared to be enjoying the Spring morning.

"The master, I presume?" She called from behind him.

When he didn't answer, she ventured out the terrace doors and pulled up a chair next to him. He was wearing a plain white tee shirt over his bandages, and his multi-coloured blanket covered the rest of him. It was wonderful to see him sitting up, alive and breathing, even though he appeared very pale and fatigued.

Bane lifted his finger and pointed at her. "You disobeyed my orders." He charged. "You went out after curfew, endangered Abraham, and nearly got yourself killed along with that traitorous fool, Chance Cooper. I had men I couldn't spare looking for you."

"It's nice to see you again, too." Stella said, a little sarcastically. "I've been worried about you."

Bane looked away, a fresh flash of annoyance in his eyes. "The news from Gotham is not good. The city was saved, but Talia is in custody. And she is expecting Bruce Wayne's child."

Stella couldn't decide whether he was more upset over Talia's pregnancy, or her arrest.

"I'm sorry." She said simply.

Bane was silent for a time. "We did not part well."

Instinctively, she knew it was time to change the subject.

"Why don't you tell me where we are? I'm assuming it's France, going by the road signs I saw last night..."

"We are in the wine region of Provence, near the city of Aix-en-Provence. Do you like it here?" He asked mildly.

"The house is beautiful, and the crickets put me to sleep last night. Listen, I want to talk to you about those things in my room. I can't accept them..."

"Dr. Van Dyne says you have been ill." Bane pressed, ignoring her words.

"Seasickness. I'm over it. Now about those clothes..."

"I detest this formal tone between us, Stella! You will relax in my presence, as you have done in the past." Bane growled weakly.

Stunned by his autocratic manner, Stella found herself at a loss for words given the emotional rollercoaster she'd ridden over the past 10 days. An old resentment rose to the surface, and she finally found the words.

"Don't ever tell me how to behave again." She said darkly. "Ten days ago we were about to make love in your office, when you were called away. You promised me you'd return, and like a lovesick teenager I believed you!"

Her brown eyes flashed angrily as she rose to her feet.

"I just want you to know that I'll never wait for you again!" She hissed, turning her back on him and disappearing into his suite.

Intrigued, Bane listened to her footsteps retreat as his brow furrowed in amusement. With a smile still tugging at his lips, he fell into a pattern of rhythmic breathing, and finally, sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20 - Epilogue

Following her arrest, Talia al Ghul was evaluated by a team of medical professionals and in a controversial decision that shocked Gotham, was judged unfit to stand trial. Instead of prison, she was committed to a state of the art, high security hospital, where she was informed of the death of Bruce Wayne. Several months later, the child she no longer had use for was born by cesarean section. The infant was taken from her uncaring arms and collected from a government agency by Alfred Pennyworth and Selina Kyle. He would be yet another challenge to the relationship of Bruce and Selina, who were living quietly in Europe and struggling with issues of trust and old habits.

Only after giving up her son did the daughter of Ra's al Ghul begin to settle into her new home. The charming 'Miranda Tate' was very popular among most clinic staff. Although she started on equal footing with the clinic's other patients, she was soon allowed to wear her own clothing. An office-like environment was outfitted inside her expansive suite, and she was extended all the exercise time she needed to keep herself in top physical condition. Eventually a personal chef was employed for her benefit.

She was, in the words of the few staff who disapproved, "spoiled rotten".

Her day nurse, Rebecca, usually found her pacing first thing in the morning in her secured, plexiglass environment, dressed for a day at the office. The conversation between them was always along the same lines, discussing Miranda's latest projects and business objectives.

"Busy day ahead, Miranda?" The nurse would inquire as she delivered breakfast and medications.

"Yes! A board meeting to discuss the energy project. Mr. Fox of Wayne Enterprises is going to drive me. Will you show him to my office when he arrives?"

"I'll do that, Miranda!" Rebecca promised. "But first, swallow your meds."

Sometimes the charming Miranda awoke as the cold-hearted 'Talia al Ghul', and Rebecca was cautious around her.

On those days, Talia dressed in a conservative ensemble, bound her hair and issued quiet threats to the doctors and nurses.

"You know he's coming for me!" She would hiss ominously. "You saw how skillfully he took Dr. Pavel. How difficult do you think it will be for my protector to remove me from this place? When that happens, you will all die!"

The Provence estate, seized by Bane after its original owners defaulted on a League of Shadows loan, was looking forward to its third harvest under new management. The sprawling property grew a variety of local vine types necessary for the production of red and white wine under the label, Maximus Provençal - a name that reflected both the Roman and French origins of the region.

For the first year Bane kept his distance from the business, until the need for control finally got the best of him. He sat in on a conference call with the winery's board of directors, and after asking only two questions, he appointed himself CEO of operations. The board did not object.

Because Barsad had taken on the burden of learning the business from the ground up, he couldn't have been happier with the turn of events. The League operated several wineries around the world and had sent their own people to guide him, but Bane's second-in-command often felt very alone.

Abraham had little time to offer advice. As the estate's security chief, he and his staff were too busy adapting, uploading and testing the many toys they'd stolen from Wayne Enterprises. Top priority upon their arrival had been the successful installation of software that disabled cameras, and untraceable email.

Adding to the pressures of Barsad's new role, he and Natasha were now the parents of a 14 month-old daughter, with a second child on the way.

With Bane on board, Barsad no longer felt as though he was working without a net. Bane was a brilliant strategist, a financial wizard, and a man of impeccable taste—all transferable skills that would make life a lot easier for Barsad.

Weighing heavily on Bane was his responsibility to Talia. The two had been together for so long that they often knew what the other was thinking, and although she had disappointed and bewildered him in Gotham, he was outraged that the authorities had so dishonoured her by shipping her off to a hospital. Thus, he had held preliminary talks with Barsad and Abraham on the possibilities of mounting a rescue mission, much to the disapproving stares of the two other men.

Dr. Natasha Van Dyne counselled him frequently on the subject of moving on. "You already came away from Gotham within an inch of your life, and now you're considering risking it again for someone who left you behind? Look around you, Bane. We're in paradise, when so much of the world is suffering. It's time you developed normal relationships with men and women, if you hear what I'm saying. Don't squander your new life."

It was true that life in the vineyard had been a positive change for the mercenary. Predictably, he had internalized the shame he felt over his failure in Gotham, including his separation from Talia. While change didn't exactly happen overnight, gradually he felt the coiled snake inside him begin to relax. Recent surgery arranged by Natasha at a Swiss clinic had been a success, and he now needed less of the of the vapor that managed his pain. He was even able to remove the mask for an hour or two a day. Two breakthrough tablets made it possible for him to enjoy the communal dinner Natasha insisted upon every night, and afterwards, an evening walk in the dying light of day. Without the mask, he thoroughly enjoyed the scents of the olive and fir trees that surrounded the property.

Dinner was difficult for him at first, because Bane wasn't accustomed to taking meals in the presence of others, nor of showing his face. What made it easier was the constant care and encouragement of Natasha. She was largely responsible for creating the warm atmosphere everyone enjoyed at the manor house, and he felt deeply indebted to her.

He had become increasingly regretful that the remnants of romance between he and Stella had apparently been left behind in Gotham. Shrewdly, he had offered her work in the communications office, a move designed to satisfy her need to earn her own keep, and his need to keep a close eye on her. He wasn't certain what they were to one another. He only knew that despite her making persistent noises about leaving, she had yet to actually make the effort.

The pony-tailed, career driven journalist he'd known in Gotham disappeared almost overnight. In her place was a more relaxed woman equally at home in the vineyard as she was in the office.

Once he'd acclimated to the ritual of the evening meal, Stella became the highlight of his day, if only because she always dressed for dinner in a wardrobe of sleeveless dresses, making it possible for him to admire her soft shoulders. She often lead the conversation as the group discussed the events of their day. On the cook's night off, she insisted on making dinner for everyone.

She was the animated Stella that Barsad and Abraham both remembered from the night they'd enjoyed a takeout dinner with her in Gotham, when they had all shared a bottle of wine.

She was the Stella that Bane had never known, the one who had existed before Gotham, and she was the Stella that Bane wanted to get to know...

He took to waiting for her at the end of her work day, when she would smile and wave from the path beneath his terrace as she returned to the manor house. Bane never replied with anything so innocuous as a wave. He merely nodded, enjoying his erection.

And just when he had begun to fear that his interest in her border-lined on an unhealthy obsession, he had a revelation. The smiles, the waves, the stolen glances, the naked shoulders, and even the appealing freckles sprinkled across her nose, were all subtle invitations.

And he was determined to take advantage of them. But first, there was someone he needed to remove from her life.

"Brother!" Bane bellowed, as he angrily scooped giggling toddler Mia Barsad from the concrete floor below his feet. "I understand that your daughter imagines herself in charge of this facility, but you cannot allow her to play in this building. She'll hit her head!"

"So?" Barsad called from the south east corner of the warehouse, where he was sampling a huge barrel of aging red wine. "Let her hit her head. It'll teach her a lesson. Next time she'll know not to run between the barrels!"

"Your parenting choices exasperate me." The mercenary wheezed, as he located his second-in-command. His enhanced voice projected even louder in the spacious confines of the warehouse.

"This child should be in her playroom, where she is safe." The mercenary argued.

"You can coddle your own kids all you want, if you ever have them." Barsad countered resentfully. "I want mine to have a head start in life."

Bane smirked broadly beneath the mask. "I assure you I have no plans to procreate, Barsad. You are doing an excellent job of expanding the population of our community without any assistance from me."

"I hope the next kid takes after me, because I can't keep up with this one. She's too much like her mother." Barsad complained as he reached over to take the dark-haired Mia, who was squirming sleepily in the small of Bane's muscular arm.

The sniper lowered his voice, grimly changing the subject. "I'm glad you stopped by, Bane. A bombshell just arrived from Intel."

Bane's brow wrinkled, and the mask sucked in a breath. Instinctively, he sensed the news was Gotham-related.

"Wayne is alive and living here in France." Barsad said lowly. "He's shacked up with Selina Kyle, and they're raising Talia's son."

Bane remained silent for a moment.

"Bruce and Selina." He rumbled thoughtfully. "A match made in heaven. How is it possible that we are neighbours?"

"Maybe because it was meant to be. Want to take another crack at him?" Barsad asked bluntly as his daughter slept soundly on his shoulder.

The mercenary turned his back on Barsad, momentarily looking out the warehouse's huge doors to survey the rolling fields of vines. "You are a father, Barsad. Would you intentionally orphan a child?"

"Well... I guess that's my answer!" Barsad sighed, clearly disappointed. "What about Kyle? She took you down at City Hall, so the least you can do is let me take her out!"

"No, Brother." Bane cautioned. "The boy has a home and two parents. If the sanctimonious Mr. Wayne believes Selina Kyle is an appropriate mother figure, then she is good enough for me."

"It's Wayne's kid, not yours. Why should you feel responsible?" Barsad protested.

Bane sighed and faced the truth that remained no matter if Talia lived or died.

"Because I am Talia's protector. It follows that I must protect her son."

"Speaking of Talia, are you still planning a rescue? I would understand if she were committed to Arkham Asylum, but it sounds like Gatewood Clinic is a spa! If we pull her out of there, she'll want to come here instead of the monastery. And you know you can't say "no" to her. She'll have her pick of healthy young males here and that's just going to cause a lot of trouble. I don't have to tell you what Natasha thinks of her..." Barsad finished bluntly.

Bane shifted uncomfortably as guilt feelings rose to the surface. He wanted Talia to be cared for by League doctors, yet he'd received nothing but glowing reports from his spies inside the high security facility that housed her. Not only was she under excellent care, but the hospital approved of all the media attention its very special patient attracted, and rewarded her like a guest at a luxury hotel. She was reportedly very content, and donations to the hospital were at an all-time high thanks to the deep pockets of do-gooders committed to the rehabilitation of the notorious and beautiful Talia al Ghul. Both Talia and the clinic were thriving.

He had come to the conclusion that Talia might actually be enjoying her stay. He knew her well, and no doubt she had charmed her way to the superior treatment she enjoyed. Bane smiled proudly under the mask, until a troubling shadow darkened his view.

Apparently he didn't know her well enough, because he never could have anticipated her leaving him on that day in Gotham...

The mercenary frowned, shaking himself out of his reverie.

"This estate has been a lot to take on, Brother, and it has challenged us all. For the present time I believe the wisest thing for us is to concentrate on our cover and our brand."

"Is that a no?"

"For now." Bane said simply, regretting the words even as he spoke them.

####################

_Hi Stella!_

_Didn't I tell you? I'm the guy with nine lives. Life has been nothing but smooth sailing since I gave the cops Talia in exchange for immunity! I may not know where you are, but I can guess who you're with. I'm the last person to point fingers, but he's a fugitive from justice, and I feel a certain responsibility for you. I'm all moved in to the loft upstairs from the club I'm managing. Come visit me in New York City, and I'll give you a 30th birthday you won't forget. ;)_

_Later, Chance XOXO_

#####################

_Ha ha, Chance!_

_I like you better when you're scared and needy. :) If by him you mean who I think you mean, then I don't know what you're talking about. Fugitive from justice my ass! That's just a government conspiracy designed to shift controversy away from the Harvey Dent cover-up. You and I both know the cat burglar killed him. As for me telling you where I am, I'm as likely to do that as you are of becoming a schoolteacher! ;). Seriously, I'm touched by your concern. Love, SB_

__

####################

Hunched over her laptop, Stella was trying, and failing, to concentrate, when an unfamiliar knock jolted her out of her chair. Her visitor didn't wait for an answer and pushed his way into her room, locking the door behind him.

"Bane!" She cried, startled by the mercenary's sudden appearance. He stood before her, wearing the black shirt he'd worn at dinner - the one that both concealed and revealed his magnificent body. Although she was still wearing her dinner dress her feet were now bare, and she felt oddly naked.

Hastily, she began to clear the clutter from her desk, and gather her discarded shoes from the floor. Normally she wouldn't have been so flustered around him, but she had caught his lovely face staring her up and down at dinner, and she'd been half expecting a visit from him.

What did he want? The last time he closed and locked the door behind him, they'd ended up in each other's arms…but that was all ancient history.

She'd wrestled with the reality of her dormant relationship with him, but continued to live in hope. She'd thought long and hard about the consequences of having a relationship with a man who was a mercenary and a remourseless killer, and she always came to the same conclusion. As she had once told Chance Cooper, she didn't want to reform him. She just wanted to know how to live with him.

Bane scanned the room, assessing the decor carefully. Most of the french furniture had been removed in favour of a mid-century modern style. Where there once hung an ornate chandelier, a George Nelson pendant lamp glowed. The Herman Miller desk where she worked was paired with a Jacobsen Swan chair. Nearby, a Florence Knoll sofa was covered with pages of handwritten notes.

"How very like you this room is." Bane mused, groaning softly as he made himself comfortable on the edge of her desk.

"You wanted to see me about something?" She asked bluntly.

Bane frowned. "Yours is not a very warm welcome." He observed playfully.

"Maybe that's because you were staring at me at dinner. Why do I feel like I'm in trouble?"

"Perhaps because you are hiding something from me." He calmly suggested.

Stella blushed guiltily, as she continued to gather sheets of paper off the floor and sofa while Bane began his interrogation.

"Why do you disappear into this room each night...and what is this?" His curious, gravelly voice inquired as he indicated the litter of papers on the Knoll sofa. "You assured me that you would not write your story..."

"And I'm not writing my story, Bane." She said defensively. "I told you a long time ago that I wouldn't write it." Saying nothing further, Stella clutched the papers protectively against her chest.

Bane exhaled a loud, metallic sigh. "Very well, then. There is something that I am certain about. It has come to my attention that you are exchanging email messages with Chance Cooper."

"How do you know that?" she asked suspiciously.

"I am aware of most everything that goes on in this household." He replied shamelessly. "Do not try to conceal anything from me, because you will be discovered."

"I didn't try to conceal it!" She laughed. "You're the one who's being unethical."

"I understand that you are upset with me, Stella, but this is an important issue."

"I'm not upset with you." She insisted. "I think it's hilarious that you feel the need to hack into my email to find out what I'm up to. And what did you learn, Bane? That there's an understanding between Chance and myself? That we shared a traumatic experience in Gotham that binds us together as friends? What's wrong with that?"

"Your friendship is understandable." He conceded. "However, given the man's affair with Talia, and his immunity deal with Gotham police, I do not trust him, nor do I trust him with information you might inadvertently supply to him, such as our location."

Then his brow rose in judgement as he admitted to the thing that annoyed him most about Chance Cooper. "He is a treacherous cad who has been encouraging you to move to New York City. He has dishonourable intentions toward you, Stella. I should have killed him when I had the opportunity."

Since he had freely admitted to hacking into her email, Stella realized it was time for an admission of her own. Peering at him curiously, she said, "If Chance wants to get me into bed, then that's fine. At least someone wants to…"

"You will not communicate with him again." Bane ordered her gruffly. "The subject is closed."

"...because it's been two years, four months and 17 days since you touched me!"

The startled mercenary blinked, his brow wrinkling with amusement. He thought he had carefully planned the evening's encounter. He had intended to confront her about Chance Cooper, wear her down until she promised to give him up, and then, with his eye on the four poster bed in the room's alcove, he planned to beat Chance Cooper at his own game.

That was what he had planned, but now it seemed Stella had taken control of the situation, and he discovered that he liked the unpredictability of the moment.

Bane was the first to admit that he'd been somewhat of a lost soul, recovering from injury and keeping to himself as he endured the absence of Talia, and the disappointment of his failure in Gotham. But he'd eventually emerged from his fog, and he could have sworn it had only been six months since he and Stella were intimate. But he was wrong, and the proof was that Stella had been keeping track of their lost time...

"It appears I have ignored you." Beneath the mask he was smiling broadly. "Indeed, time has flown."

"It has, and I know you've had a lot on your mind since we arrived, and let's face it - Gotham was hardly the ideal setting for us, but this place is..." She countered before she could stop herself.

"It is idyllic, is it not?" Bane agreed, still smirking.

"Darn you, Bane." She whined. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"

"Say what, Stella?" His eyes smouldered in anticipation of her words as they swept her from head to toe. The dress she wore was his favourite, a red tank style that flared at the waist and was constructed with intricate crochet detailing. It was the garment he most imagined removing from her body. Mesmerized by her squirming, painted toes, he watched them knead the shag carpet beneath her feet.

"Begin!" He ordered, pulling his fascinated eyes away from her toes, and nodding sharply.

Stella sighed nervously, fearing rejection more than anything else.

"I...I don't want to be your one-night stand any more, if you get what I'm saying. I feel cheap and tossed aside, and I don't like it."

The mercenary had acquired many skills during his career, however, negotiating the politics of romance with the female of the species wasn't one that was high on the top of the list. It was a skill he'd rarely if ever needed. Stella's words pulled him into an unfamiliar realm, one where he knew he had to sink or swim.

"It was never my intention that you should feel this way." He said thoughtfully as his pupils dilated and his eyebrow rose. "To be fair, our evening together was more the completion of a business arrangement rather than romance."

"But I'm not that kind of girl. If I could take back that deal, I would." She fretted.

"I for one do not regret our intercourse." Bane said craftily, feigning offence as he rose from the desk and approached her with deliberate steps. "Nor do I consider you a one-night stand. Unlike your "friend", Chance Cooper, I am a gentleman."

"Don't misunderstand me!" Stella insisted. "I don't regret it either. It's just that I..."

"You wish for more." He guessed, as both his ego and his manhood swelled. His escalating arousal made him feel invincible, something he had not experienced since Gotham.

Feeling the heat of his body as he hovered, she sighed wistfully. "Do you think we could start again?"

Holding his hand up to silence her, Bane paused to enjoy the moment.

Misunderstanding his gesture, the weight of disappointment crushed her, and she rolled her eyes in frustration. The man simply had no concept of romance.

"Before we continue this discussion, I want your assurances that you will cease communications with Chance Cooper." He cautioned. "I absolutely forbid you any further contact with him!"

Then he lowered his tone, his eyes throbbing with disapproval in the disappearing light of the day. "He wants to give you a 30th birthday you won't forget." He snarled. "I am a man, Stella, and I know what he really wants."

The journalist shook her head in disbelief, hardly able to believe his words, as a blush flooded her face.

"You're jealous!" She beamed, astounded by his declaration. "You are, aren't you?"

Bane immediately waved her off. "I am familiar with the word, not the emotion." He claimed, denying her accusation, even as he knew in his heart that her accusation was true. He couldn't bear the idea that Stella and the handsome young womanizer were bound by a shared experience.

Armed with the blissful knowledge that Bane suffered from a serious case of the green-eyed monster, the blonde journalist decided to take a risk.

"Then we're just talking in circles here. I'm not giving up my friendship with Chance just because you demand it!" She said firmly as she crossed the room, and threw open the bedroom door in an invitation for him to leave. "You let me know when and if you want to finish this conversation, but I'm betting it won't be any time soon!"

"Damn you, woman." Bane rumbled. His fingers twitched irritably as he charged toward her. "What must I do to command your obedience?"

She was silent for a moment as she considered Bane's words, until her brown eyes widened with a revelation. He had just handed her a golden opportunity. He wanted obedience from her in a situation where he was clearly at a disadvantage. The ball was in her court, and it was simply a case of now, or never.

With a slow-motion show of closing the bedroom door, she leaned back against it and broke into a calculating smile. She no longer felt naked before him, and she didn't care that the left shoulder strap of her dress slipped over her shoulder.

"Why don't you come a little closer?" She whispered. "And we'll discuss it."

The mercenary's abdominals flexed and his sleeping giant awoke. "You once told me that you would never wait for me again." He growled softly. "And yet here you are..."

Stella trembled in anticipation, as Bane's shadow enveloped her.

"I lied."


End file.
